


Revenge of the MHP

by Foeofthelance



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domination/submission, Group Sex, Mind Control, Multi, Oral Sex, Rape, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:30:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1274962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foeofthelance/pseuds/Foeofthelance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bad things happen when the Pawn decides that its time to become the King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                “Wake up, Ron.” Ronald Weasley stirred uneasily as he heard his friend’s voice. Had he over slept again? Were he and Harry going to be late to class again? He tried to shake his head to clear the fuzziness from his mind, but things just felt  _wrong._  Something heavy was pressing down on his body, but not exactly  _down_  per se. In fact, it felt more like he was standing up, but his feet weren’t touching anything…

                “RONALD, WAKE UP!”

                “Wha- Harry?” Ron slurred as he opened his eyes. He could tell he was in the Gryffindor common room, but the entire scene was spinning before his eyes. Strange, there were reddish brown streaks all over the wall, like someone had tried to repaint the room by splashing the paint on straight from the can. There was something sitting on the mantle, something pale and round. As his vision cleared realized it was Neville’s _head._ The other boy’s mouth was locked into a shocked ‘O’, with his fat, purple tongue hanging loose between his lips. Streaks of dried blood crept down from his shredded neck, a clear sign that the head had been there for a while. “Harry? What the hell is going on?”

                “It is quite simple, Ron,” Harry replied from the chair he had set up directly in front of his friend. Ron’s eyes widened as he realized Harry was completely naked, and they nearly popped from his skull as he realized that Hermione was there as well. Not only was she naked as well, but she was seated on Harry’s lap, completely oblivious to Ron. The reason for that was more than clear – her hips were slowly rolling back and forth as she worked his cock. Harry was cupping one firm breast with his other hand, idly fingering one of her little brown nipples. Her own hand was busy between her legs, vigorously frigging her clit. Her chest heaved as her breath came in shorter and shorter gasps, a clear sign that she was nearing orgasm. Harry held a finger up to his lips to quiet Ron as he turned his attention back to the brunette, pinching her nipple hard as he sank his teeth into her shoulder. Hermione climaxed with a scream, her entire body going tight as scorching pleasure rippled through her. When it finally passed several minutes later she sank back against Harry, nuzzling his neck.

                “Oh, Harry, that was  _wonderful,”_ she murmured. She yawned and stretched, then looked up as she noticed Ron’s look of pure shocked outrage. “Oh, has he been awake long?”

                “Long enough!” Ron bellowed, yanking at the chains holding him to the wall. “Hermione, how could you?!”

                “How could I?” Hermione repeated mockingly. “How could I not? Power is  _the_  aphrodisiac, and Harry has always been the most powerful wizard of our generation. And what’s more, not only is he large enough for me to actually tell when he’s in me, but he knows how to use it as well! There is more to sex than just a few rude grunts and the collapsing on top of the girl, something a brutish oaf like you would  _never_ understand.”

                “But- but-  _why?”_  Ron moaned as he watched Hermione stand up and brush one hand between her legs. A small bit of Harry’s cum had already started to leak out of her pussy, and she wiped it away with her fingers. She held it up in front of her face so that she could play with the sticky fluid between her fingers, all the while wallowing in the look of bitter disgust on Ron’s face. She licked her fingers clean with pure delight, moaning, “He even tastes better than you do…”

                “As I said, it is quite simple, Ron,” Harry repeated as Hermione knelt in front of him. She brushed her long hair back over her shoulder as she grabbed a hold of his cock and began noisily cleaning it with her tongue. Harry grunted as he thrust his cock deeper into her eagerly waiting throat, causing Hermione to gag as he stretched muscles that had never been stretched that way before. He leaned his head back and let his eyes roll up as he felt the warm wet of her mouth engulf his cock. Every so often she would swallow and the muscles in her throat would squeeze the head of his cock, sending a straight shock up his spine, only for her to pull back until just the tip was resting between her lips as her tongue flickered across that one spot where skin met the crown. Having already just come, Harry knew she could keep this up almost indefinitely, keeping him paralyzed in his seat until he either eventually came again or until her knees got tired, whichever came first.

                “STOP IT!” Ron screamed.

                “Oh for heaven’s sake, be quiet Ronald!” Hermione snapped, letting Harry’s wet cock slap against his stomach as she stood up, reaching for her wand. “All you have ever done is bitch and moan when everyone else is trying to have some fun. You never did understand that it can’t be all about you!”

                Hermione’s wand had been jutting out of Angela Johnson’s scorched eye socket. It came free with a muffled  _pop,_ and a bit of steam wafted into the air as the Quidditch captain’s sockets oozed cooked juices and other ichor. Hermione flicked her wand with a snarl of disgust to clear it of the gore, and then raised it so that she was pointing at Ron. “ _Malferrous!”_

                Ron howled in pain as two rusted metal spikes materialized out of thin air and impaled themselves through the palms of his hands. The jagged edges ripped through flesh and bone alike, pulverizing any bit of his body that attempted to get in the way. Fiery agony danced across his nerve endings, and Ron let out a shriek of utter damnation. Blood began to ooze from the wounds, dripping slowly down his wrists as it followed the curve of his arm, pooling momentarily around his elbows before taking the long drop to the floor below. He thrashed as he tried to escape his torment, but the chains around his wrists held firm, and all he succeeded at doing was tearing the wounds open wider. His mind froze as it was simply overwhelmed by the pain, the sheer hellish anguish.

                “Why?” he sobbed as the torture subsided to a dull ache. “Why, Harry, why?”

                “Why?” Harry repeated, his voice heavy with scorn. “Why? You dare to ask me  _why?!_  Because  _why not!_  I spent eleven miserable years living with the Dursleys, eleven long, bitter years. No friends, no families, just the occasional beating when ever that fat bastard Dudley did something wrong. Nothing I could ever do was good enough to wipe out whatever stigma my parents had left behind. And then it all changed. I was a  _wizard!_  I had  _money! I would have power!_  I was going to go off to a magical land where I was famous and people would be nice to me! And do you know what I got instead? I find out that there is a psychopathic bastard out to kill me, and not only that, but I have to share my head and soul with him. That he can cause me pain just by  _thinking_  about me. All the teachers at school either want to kill me or turn me into some sort of weapon, and even my own classmates turn on me at the merest hint of rumor or scandal. Naturally the only ones who I can rely on are the girl who also started as a muggle, and the fawning younger sister of the guy who runs off to have an emo pout anytime he doesn’t get to be as special as the person everyone is trying to kill! For the first time, I actually understand Voldemort – and you know what, he isn’t wrong, either. Foolish, yes. Evil, yes. I am going to have to destroy him as well, at least eventually. But that doesn’t make him wrong. Power is the end all and be all, and today I claim what is rightfully mine.”

                “Dumbledore will stop you!” Ron screamed.

                “Dumbledore,” Harry answered with an evil grin, “is already dead…”

 

*             *             *

 

                 _Harry paused as he reached the door to Dumbledore’s office.  He could hear movement on the other side of the door, the faint rustling of robes and…moaning? He placed his hand against the door and whispered, “Gobstoppers.” He drew his wand from the pocket of his robes as he pushed the door open a crack and stepped through, peering around the corner. He was prepared for anything, Deatheaters, Snape, even Voldemort himself…ready for anything except that which he found._

_Snape was seated on Dumbledore’s desk, his robe hiked up to his hips and his hairy legs spread wide so that anyone coming through the door would be forced to look between them. Dumbledore knelt on the ground between those vile pillars, barebacked except for his cascade of white hair. His head was bobbing up and down quickly, almost as if he was- No, he couldn’t be, not with Snape!_ Especially _not with Snape! Harry refused to believe the very thing before his eyes, and stumbled back in his shock, accidentally knocking over and old astrolabe. The heavy bronze device crashed to the floor with a stupendous bang, made all the more alarming for the suddenness with which it hit. Both men turned at the surprising noise, and Harry looked back in fear as he realized he had been caught. He stared with sick fascination at Snape’s penis, hard and shiny in the pale moonlight, still wet with Dumbledore’s saliva._

_“Harry!” both men cried at once, Snape’s voice filled with bitter anger, Dumbledore’s with sad surprise._

_“Harry, it isn’t what you think!” Dumbledore protested as he rose to his feet, revealing he was equally as naked – and equally as erect – as Snape._

_“Really, Professor?” Harry demanded in shock. “Because from here it quite looked like you were sucking him off!”_

_“Harry, please…” Dumbledore pleaded, only for Snape to cut him off. The younger man had seized the chance to grab his wand and was now aiming it at Harry._

_“Potter you are going to forget that you ever saw anything tonight!” Snape roared. “Obli-“_

_Something deep inside Harry snapped. His own wand was already ready, and he whipped it across the air with a vicious swipe as he screamed, “SECTUMSEMPRA!”_

_Snape stumbled backwards against the desk, his own curse unfinished as a dozen invisible blades lashed out at his body. Each cut was like a jagged bolt of lightning lacerating his skin, and blood fountained from a dozen wounds. He clutched at his throat as a lethal strike hit home, slicing through his neck with the ease of a hot chainsaw through soft butter. Blood poured around his fingers as Snape tried in vain to stuff his mangled arteries and vocal chords back into his throat, while Dumbledore and Harry looked on in shock. Hot, thick blood rushed down his throat, filling his lungs, and Snape’s last act on earth was to crash to the floor of Dumbledore’s office, writhing and gurgling like a fish wrapped in a plastic bag and thrown onto dry land._

_There was silence in the office as the boy and the man stared in shock at Snape’s corpse, while the potion master’s blood quietly seeped into the thick carpeting. There would be no help coming, no last minute attempts to save him – the thick, sound dampening stone walls and remote location of the headmaster’s office made sure that no one had heard the fight begin or end. Some dark corner of Harry’s mind made note of that, even as a simpering Dumbledore turned to him and whined, “Harry. Harry, my boy, what have you done!”_

_“What have I done…?” Harry repeated dumbly. “What have I done? Why, I have become exactly what you have always wanted me to be, Dumbledore. I have become a killer. I have become a weapon. I have faced my foe upon the field of battle and I have struck him down before he could do the same to me.”_

_“No…” Dumbledore protested feebly as he threw himself, sobbing, over Snape’s body. “Harry, that is not the fate meant for you!”_

_“Isn’t it, though?” Harry asked as realization dawned. “I have always been your weapon of choice. Even when I was just eleven, and did not even understand the extent of my powers, you saw fit to throw me and my friends through a gauntlet designed by our teachers to thwart the most powerful force of evil they knew about! Little good that did, of course. They couldn’t even stop three first years, let alone Voldemort himself. Did you know that? Were you counting on them failing? Was I the plan all along, that it would be me to have to face him down there? Oh, the Chamber I think I can give you a pass on. That one was entirely the Malfoys, a crime for which I will make sure they pay. But when Remus went mad? You came back and gave us the Time Turner yourself! You knew exactly what you were doing, knowing that we would have to deal with not just a psychotic mass murderer but a feral werewolf as well! The Triwizard tournament? You could have removed me, could have had me throw every match to the legitimate contestants, but no! You made me compete! You made sure there was no option left to me! And even as Crouch was setting up his plans, the same plans that got Cedric killed and revived Voldemort with my own protections; you just sat back and watched! SIRIUS DIED BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T WANT TO TELL ME ABOUT THE DAMNED PROPHECY!”_

_“No, Harry, those were your own-“_

_“Don’t tell me they were my own actions!” Harry raged. “You made sure they were the actions I would take! You made sure that each and every step was carefully laid out before me, and that anyone who might actually be able to solve the problem and keep the damage to a minimum was removed to that_ I _would have to face it! And for what? So that you could have your story, so that you could have your weapon and your legend. And all this because of one man. Because of Voldemort? No. Because of Dumbledore.”_

_Harry pointed his wand into the air and declared, “Accio Colt .45.”_

_He squatted down on the balls of his feet as he waited for the spell to complete. “You know the Dursleys abused me as a child. Don’t pretend that you didn’t. Was it deliberate? Was that another part of your scheme, to try and make me a better person by forcing me to deal with such petty meanness, day in and day out? Don’t wizards know that abused kids tends to become abusers themselves? No, I am sure you didn’t. It wouldn’t even occur to you that your special plan might backfire._

_“When I was still living in the cupboard under the stairs, there really wasn’t much I could do to escape their brutality. The best chance I got was in Dudley’s old books. Thank god the lout wasn’t much of a reader; he never even noticed when they disappeared. I really liked the Westerns. American books about cowboys and Indians and wide open land that promised all who explored them a good happy adventure. There was a line in one of them, a line that I couldn’t help but enjoy just because of how nice and simple it was. According to one of the cowboys, `God made men, but Samuel Colt made them equal.’ I wonder if the same holds true for wizards?”_

_There was a faint whistling sound as something small and metallic came rushing through the air, and Harry reached up with his Seeker’s grace and snagged the flying pistol out of the air. Dumbledore looked the shiny, blocky gun in confusion. His questions only lasted a moment, however, before Harry pulled the trigger. The gun went off with a deafening roar and a blinding flash, and Harry cried out with a shock of pain as the recoil nearly broke his wrist. The heavy bullet had been designed to pierce SWAT quality body armor, and Dumbledore’s brittle old skull was no match for it. Bone, blood, and brains exploded outwards as the steel tip smashed through at a little over 1100 feet per second. Quite a bit backwashed over Harry, soaking his robes in gore and splintered fragments of Dumbledore’s head._

_Harry dropped the pistol from his numb hand, breathing heavily as he stared down at the carnage he had wreaked. He couldn’t help but think that the office looked to be in remarkably good shape for the site of two different murders.  Hell, Fawkes was still asleep under the blanket covering his cage, at least as far as Harry could tell. He looked down at the two broken corpses and shook his head. “You two deserve each other.”_

_Turning around, he stumbled through the door, leaving the mess for someone else to pick up later._

 

_*             *             *_

 

                “You really killed Dumbledore?” Ron asked meekly, shaking his head. This had to be a bad dream. It  _had_  to be. Dumbledore had been like a second father to them there was no way…

                “I did,” Harry replied, still smiling viciously. Hermione was back on her knees, Harry’s cock buried deep in her throat once more. “And the more I think about it, the more I wonder why I didn’t do so earlier. Everything that bastard put us,  _me_ , through! He deserved it. He deserved it ten times over!"


	2. Encounter in the Hall

 Ron’s eyes stung, his cheeks burning from the tracks of salt left behind from his tears as his mind rejected what he was hearing. There was no way his friends had become psychotic murderers, yet there they sat, gleefully partaking of each other’s naked bodies, frolicking in a room full of corpses.  Harry grunted as he spent himself in Hermione’s mouth, her throat twitching as she eagerly swallowed every last bit of his seed. A small bit escaped to drip down her chin, but a quick swipe of her tongue caught it before the tasty morsel could escape. Ron wanted to cry out in protest, but the words wouldn’t come. He was too tired, too sore for that. The bleeding from his hands had slowed down, leaving behind brown streaks of dried blood along his wrists.

                “My turn?” Hermione panted as she rose to her feet. She wobbled unsteadily for a moment as the circulation returned to her lower legs, and she ended up sinking onto the chair next to Harry.

                “In a minute, love,” Harry answered with a weak smile. “I may be the most powerful wizard of our generation, but even  _I_  have my limits!”

                “But-“ Hermione began to protest with a pout. Harry silenced her with a gentle finger against her lips.

                “Hush,” he ordered. “I said that I was tired, not that you would have to wait. Let me just summon our Pet, and she can keep you entertained while I recover. Pet, come here please!”

                ‘ _Who?’_  Ron thought, his mind struggling to focus through the pain. It was worse than anything he could imagine, including the Cruciatus curse. At least the curse only inflicted physical pain, unlike the emotional torment he was now suffering at the twisted mockeries that resembled the two people who had been his dearest friends in the world. Every breath hurt, and his shoulders ached from being held in one position for so long, the sockets stretching and popping as they tried and failed to support the weight of his body. His palms itched madly, which only caused him to scream with fresh anguish as his fingernails dug into the raw, oozing flesh when he instinctively tried to scratch.

                Still, that was nothing compared to listening to the pure admiration in Hermione’s voice as she fawned over Harry. It was unthinkable. Hermione had never been one to crave power, so how could she possibly condone Harry’s actions, let alone touch him like that? Ron’s jaw dropped as a familiar red headed girl stepped out from behind Harry’s chair and moved so that she was kneeling next to his arm.

                “Ginny, please, you have to help me! Harry and Hermione have gone mad!” Ron pleaded. Ginny turned to look at him, but she made no move to rescue him. She stared at Ron dumbly, as if she not only didn’t recognize him, but he was speaking a foreign language as well. The flames in the Common Room’s fireplace popped and roared as they grew brighter, and Ron gasped in shock as he got a good look at his sister’s naked body. Her pale skin was covered in long, red marks that crisscrossed her belly, shoulder, and thighs, the result of what had clearly been a vicious whipping. Only her face and breasts had been left untouched, save for a sickle sized brand over her left breast, a rampant stag back to back with a fire breathing dragon, set over a cat’s face.

                Ginny turned to Harry and asked, “Master, who is that?”

                Harry reached down and began to lovingly stroke her hair. When he spoke it was with a tenderness that Ron would have sworn he was no longer capable of feeling. “He is no one, Pet. Just the last link in an old chain that binds us to an old and dead world. Once he is broken we shall be free of all of our fetters, free to take our place as the rightful masters of our destinies and all that we may seek to lay claim to.”

                “May I help, sir?” The eagerness was plain in Ginny’s voice, and Ron’s stomach clenched as he realized that the irrepressible girl he had known as his sister was gone, replaced by the creature kneeling at Harry’s side.

                “In time,” Harry replied soothingly, causing Ron to blanch when he added, “I will have a task for you yet.”

                “But I want to help  _now_ , _”_ Ginny begged, pressing her face against Harry’s arm as tears began to gather at the corner of her eyes. “I want to be useful to my master!”

                “Well, there is something you can do…” Harry offered tantalizingly. “Your Mistress would like someone to play with her.”

                “I  _love_  playing with Mistress!” Ginny gushed breathily. “Would she like me on top or the bottom?”

                “How about you crawl between my legs and put that tongue of yours to good use?” Hermione replied invitingly, beckoning Ginny over with one finger. The red head moved with a sloppy haste, as if Hermione’s sodden pussy was an oasis after a long, dry trip through the desert. She plastered her face at the V between Hermione’s legs, her mouth devouring the sweet, arousing nectar that issued forth. Hermione let out a long, deep moan as the younger girl’s desire overwhelmed her. “Oh god’s Ginny, that’s…aaaah!”

                “STOP IT!” Ron bellowed, turning his head in disgust. “Hermione! Ginny! How could you?!”

                “Oooh, it wasn’t easy,” Hermione moaned as Ginny slipped first one, then two fingers into her tight pussy. “Your sister has quite a bit of stamina…”

 

                                                                                *             *             *

 

                 _“Oh my God, Harry!” Hermione gasped as she watched Harry come stumbling down the stairs from the Headmaster’s office. She had just been finishing up a late night study session in the library, and her arms were full of extra books and notes for her classes and other pursuits. The entire situation with Dumbledore’s Army the previous year had opened her eyes to everything she had been missing out on by sticking to the school’s curriculum. There were literally acres of spells and enchantments tucked away in the Library, including many from previous wizarding wars. Most had been locked away in the Restricted section, but it hadn’t taken much for her to wheedle a free pass out of McGonagall._

_“Are you okay?” she asked, dropping her load of books to the cold, stone floor._

_“Dead,” Harry wheezed, clutching his chest. “Dumbledore… Snape… murdered.”_

_“Snape and Dumbledore have been murdered?” Hermione gasped in shock. “There are Death Eaters in the castle? Quick, we need to sound the alarm!”_

_“No!” Harry snapped, seizing her by the arm before she could run off. “No. Not Death Eaters. I did it. I killed them.”_

_“What? No!” Hermione protested in horror. “There must be a mistake! They can’t be… You couldn’t have…”_

_“Snape attacked me,” Harry explained quickly. “Dumbledore… Dumbledore tried to stop it. Tried to defend Snape. I had to protect myself. I used the spell from the book. It killed them…”_

_“Oh, Harry!” Hermione cried, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. “Are you all right? Is there anything I can do?”_

_Harry stared at her numbly for a moment, still trying to process the events of the past few moments. For some reason his focus came to rest on the part of her robes, just above her chest. He could make out just the slightest hint of cleavage, which for some reason seemed terribly important. He and Ron had managed to get Hermione to confess to the fact that she rarely wore much on her late night excursions to the Library. The school robes provided plenty to suit her modesty and, unless it was bitterly cold out it, it was just easier for her to stick to her underwear. Not having to undress when she returned to the dorms meant she was less likely to wake the other girls. The spring had been warm so far, so she was unlikely to be wearing anything more than a pair of panties, as she had long ago discovered a variation of wingardium leviosa that invalidated any need for a bra._

                ‘Take her,’  _a voice whispered in the back of Harry’s mind._ ‘She should be yours. She cares about you, loves you. She would give herself willingly to you…’

                ‘No,’ _Harry thought, shaking his head to try and rid himself of that dreaded whisper._ ‘No, she is with Ron. I can’t do that to him!’

                ‘Why not?’  _the voice challenged._ ‘What has he ever done for you? He has always been a cowardly, jealous fool. Take his woman. She is powerful, courageous, just like you. She would be wasted on him.’ _An image rose to the front of his consciousness, Hermione on her back with her legs spread, her voice thick with pleasure as he fucked her relentlessly._ ‘Take her. Claim her. She will be yours, she wants to be yours…’

                 _“Harry? Harry, what’s wrong?” Hermione asked, her voice taut with worry._

 _Harry’s answer was to shove her against the wall, crushing her between his body and the hard stone, his hand cradling her head to cushion it from the impact. Hermione’s cry of surprise was cut off as Harry’s tongue snuck into her mouth. Hermione froze, her mind incapable of processing what was happening to her. She knew this was wrong, that it was a betrayal of Ron, that she should stop Harry before it went too far – yet at the same time she just didn’t want to.  She gasped as Harry yanked her robe open, the catch holding it closed tearing free with a muted_ shhrrrp.  _The robe hung loosely on her slender frame, baring her perfectly sized breasts to the chilly night air._

_For a moment all Harry could do was stare at her tightening nipples. The sweet little nubs rose and fell with each of her breaths in a hypnotic pattern that robbed him of the ability to think. He had never actually seen a girl naked before. Sure, there had been the occasional naughty photo that had been passed around the dorm, but that was different. Now he could feel the heat from her skin, smell the tangy scent of her fearful arousal, hear the catch in her breath as she waited for him to make his next move. It suddenly struck him just how far he had gone, the terror of attacking one of his best friends, what a terrible betrayal of Ginny this would be._

                ‘There can be three thrones,’  _the voice assured him, and Harry Potter knew he was damned._

                 _He kissed her again, but now the animal savagery was gone, replaced with a more focused dominance. He felt her body soften against him as he nibbled at her neck, her resistance ebbing as he fondled her breasts. He was, perhaps, a bit clumsy at it, here a sloppy kiss, there a grip too firm. He made up for it with a ruthless determination, a sense of self confidence he had never known before._

_Hermione felt herself yielding to his passion, her body deciding what her mind could not. She and Ron had fooled around a bit before, the clumsy experimenting of two children still discovering their own bodies. It had felt good, sort of – Ron had never really had the attention span for her to truly figure out what felt good – but it didn’t compare to the way Harry made her feel. Her body felt as if it were on fire, consumed by a raging inferno that only grew hotter with each brush of his finger tips._

_“Oh, Harry,” Hermione moaned as his hand invaded her panties. Harry was surprised to discover bare skin under his fingers, but it was a thrilling discovery and his cock twitched with wanton anticipation of the moment it would replace his hand between her legs. He was amazed at how hot and wet she felt as his fingers slipped into her slick cunny. Hermione sagged bonelessly against the wall, wriggling her hips against the impaling digits as she rolled her panties down her thighs. The soggy garment landed on the ground in a lump, but neither one noticed. Hermione began to fumble with the buttons on his robe, her normal care lost in her haste. She wanted more, she wanted to feel his body under her hands, she wanted to feel his cock buried deep in her snatch she wanted…_

 

_“HARRY?!”_


	3. The Breaking of Ginny Weasley

 “You bitch,” Ron snarled at Hermione. He would have spit if his throat hadn’t been painfully dry. “What the bloody hell did you do to my sister!”

                “Oh, Ronald,” Hermione sighed softly. She stood up and walked over to where he was stapled to the wall. “Poor Ronald. I knew you would never understand. You were always too honest, too bull headed. You wore your heart on your sleeve, and would challenge anyone who dared to question you. It was one of the reasons I fell in love with you in the first place. So simple. So uncomplicated. So boring.”

                Ron’s head snapped sideways as Hermione slapped him with all her strength. “That was for fooling me into thinking I could ever love someone as shall as you,” Hermione sneered.  She snapped her fingers, causing Ginny to come scurrying over on all fours. “You want to know what I did to your sister, Ronald? Nothing she hasn’t thanked me for many, many times. Over and over again, long into the night. She can be very thankful, your sister.”

                “Bitch!”  
                Hermione laughed. “You see what I mean? You have already said that one, darling, and it was just as pathetic the first time.” She turned to Ginny and pointed at Ron. “Pet? Be a dear and take his pants off for me.”

                “Yes, Mistress,” Ginny answered, rising on her knees as she began to fumble with her brother’s fly. Ron’s hips squirmed as he tried to pull away from her, but there was nowhere for him to go. A few stiff tugs was all it took to get his pants down around his ankles, caught where his feet were nailed to the wall. The extra weight on his feet caused him to his in pain.

                Ginny reached up and hesitantly began to stroke his penis, mesmerized by the way it twitched at her touch. Ron moaned as instinct triumphed over reason, his body treasonously responding to the gentle caress of his sister’s hand. Ginny watched with amazement as his dick swelled to its full potential before blurting out, “Mistress! It is so  _small!”_

                “Well, not everyone can be as bless as your Master,” Hermione said as she patted Ginny on the head. She began to stroke the other girl’s long, coppery hair as she looked up at Ron. Ron glared back at her, trying to muster as much defiance as he could. They stared at each other for several long moments before Hermione shrugged and added, “And then there are those who will simply never be able to measure up, no matter how hard they try or wish they could.”

                “Whore!”

                “Sticks and stone, Ronald, sticks and stones,” Hermione replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. She walked back to the chair and sank into its soft cushions, deliberately spreading her legs so that he could see her glistening sex as she played with herself. “Pet, go ahead and suck on his knob. Maybe that will keep him quiet.”

                “No, Ginny-!” Ron started to protest, only to cut off with a strangled gasp as his younger sister’s mouth enveloped his dick, the warm tightness of her throat closing around him.

                “Do you like that, Ronald?” Hermione taunted as she continued to finger her clit. Watching Ginny’s head bob back and forth as she sucked on her older brother made Hermione incredibly horny. She wished Harry would hurry up and return; she desperately needed a nice thick cock buried deep in her cunny. “She is a good little cocksucker, isn’t she? Of course, she wasn’t always that way…”

 

*  * *

 

_“_ _Harry?! Hermione?!” Ginny cried out in shock as she stumbled across the two older students screwing in the hallway. Hermione was pressed against the wall of the corridor, her robe hanging open to expose her mostly naked body. What the two had been up to didn’t require any stretch of the imagination, as Hermione’s panties were down around her ankles, and Harry’s fingers were stuck deep in her pussy. Just a moment ago they had been eagerly exploring their new environment, but now they were frozen in place as Harry not just that they had been caught, but who they had been caught by as well._

_“_ _Ginny- I-“ he stammered, trying futilely to come up with some excuse for the situation. Hermione was faster on the uptake._

_“_ _OBLIVIATE!”_

                 _There was a flash of light, and both girls reeled as the hex connected. Hermione’s mind was flooded by Ginny’s memories, and it felt as if she was going to drown under the other girl’s sense of shock and betrayal. She flailed at the memories, destroying them at random a she struggled to regain control.  After a moment’s fighting she managed to surface back inside her own mind. She sagged against the wall, pressing her hand against the cool stone in an attempt to focus and regain her balance._

_“_ _Hermione, what the hell do you think you are doing!” Harry demanded as he watched Ginny stagger drunkenly. The weight of his betrayal fell on him with the suddenness of an avalanche. He was torn by the need to protect both girls, both from himself and each other._

_“_ _Harry?” Ginny asked. Her befuddled mind was grasping at his familiar voice. “What is going on? My head feels so strange…”_

_“_ _OBLIVIATE!” Hermione cried a second time. She was better prepared for her second attempt, and the flood of memories and emotion wasn’t as great. She immediately latched on to those of the last few minutes, consigning them to oblivion. To make up for their absence she seized other memories of her and Harry, happier memories, and forced them into the void created by her tampering. They weren’t a perfect fit, but with enough force of will…_

                 _She was shaken out of her spell as Harry’s hand closed around her throat as he slammed her against the wall. “Hermione, stop this at once!” he ordered as she flailed against him. “I did not give you permission to harm her!”_

_“_ _Too…late…” Hermione managed to choke out. “She…saw…too much…”_

_“_ _No!” Harry cried out as he sank to his knees. He shook his head as he refused to admit the truth. “No…”_

_“_ _Yes!” Hermione insisted as she rubbed her throat with care. She expected there would be a hand shaped bruise there in the morning. “_ You _caused this, Harry, and it is too late for us to turn back now. We have come too far for that.”_

_“’_ _We?’” Harry asked as he stared at her in confusion._

_“_ _Yes, we,” Hermione repeated. She nodded slowly. “I am your friend, Harry. And…and I love you. Did you really think that you could just confess to murder and rape me in the corridor?” She scoffed and shook her head again. “Please. You may have more raw power than I do, but that is not enough. I could have said no. I could have stopped this. No. I wanted this, well, maybe not this, but enough that I am willing to along with it now that it has happened. Either way, we are in this together.”_

_“_ _What about Ron?”_

_“_ _What about him?” Hermione sneered. “He would never understand. He is far too pure. Our new reality would devour him alive. Either way, Ron cannot survive what we have become, nor what we will become._

_“_ _But…” Harry started to protest, then thought better of it. “No, you are right. You always are, in the end. What will we do about him? He loved you, you know. “_

_“_ _And I loved him, or thought I did.” Hermione shrugged. “Maybe I could have loved him if things had turned out differently. We’ll- I’ll figure out something. But first we need to decide what we are going to do about Ginny.”_

                 _Harry looked at Ginny apprehensively. “What did you want to do to her?”_

                 _Hermione looked him in the eye. “You love her, don’t you?”_

                 _Harry nodded._

_“_ _The same way you love me?” Hermione asked. Her voice was flat and emotionless._

_“_ _I-“ Harry stopped and shook his head. “She represents everything I wanted for my life, but she is no Hermione Granger. She is cunning, but you are smart. She is quick, you are steady. You are both bloody gorgeous though.”_

                 _Hermione felt her entire body grow warm at his compliment, and she couldn’t stop herself from blushing. Her nipples tightened as he gazed at her with a predatory lust in his eyes. She pressed her body against his, her breasts tingling as the rough curls of his chest hair brushed against her skin. She could feel his hard cock pressing against her belly, and there was nothing she wanted more in that moment than to sink to her knees and feel the heavy weight of it pressing down on her tongue as she savored his flavor. First, unfortunately, they had to take care of more important matters._

_“_ _I will give her to you,” Hermione panted, reaching between them to stroke his shaft. “Consider her a gift, the first of many.”_

_“_ _Do it!” Harry ordered. He spun her around so that his arm pinned her against his body, with his cock lodged against her ass. He pushed his leg between hers and pushed them apart, exposing her cunt to his questing fingers. He spread the lips of her cunt to expose her clit, allowing him to flick the sensitive little nub n tie with some half remembered song. “What are you waiting for, Hermione? Look at the way she is watching us. See how she stares at me fingering you? That is what she really wants. She wants to know what it feels like to have a man spread her wide, to have his cock pressing against her as he plays with her slick cunny. She just doesn’t know how to ask. She needs you to show her how.”_

_“_ _Yesss,” Hermione moaned as she fumbled for her wand, the tension between her legs growing with each passing moment. Her body burned at his touch, and she wanted nothing more than to give into the fires that were consuming her. But that wasn’t  what_  he _wanted, and she had to do what Harry wanted, no questions asked. Her hand trembled as she raised her wand, every ounce of her remaining will dedicated to calling on the power for her spell._

_“_ _OBLIVIATE!” Hermione shrieked the word as her body failed her. Her entire world was consumed by a blinding orgasm that her paralyzed by pure bliss. She gasped as her mind collided with Ginny’s, obliterating both girls under a tidal wave of pleasure. Hermione could only watch with delirious helplessness as the last of Ginny’s memories were wiped away, replaced entirely by a hunger for Harry’s touch, a carnal hunger that would never be truly satisfied. She realized as the memories continued to shatter around her that Ginny was absorbing_ her _impulses, that she was feeding off Hermione’s own lust._

                 _Ginny collapsed to all fours, panting like a bitch in heat as she experienced Harry’s fingers in time with Hermione. The redhead groaned as fingers dug past brunette curls, and the brunette screamed as the redhead’s cunt clenched around nonexistent fingers. Hermione could feel the spell escaping her control, but she just didn’t care. This was what Harry wanted, this was what_ she _wanted. Ginny would make for a fine slut, obedient to every dirty little order they gave her._

_“_ _Fuck me, Harry!” Hermione begged as she bucked against him. “Please! I need to feel your cock inside me, please!”_

                 _Harry only grunted in reply, his hand tightening around the back of her neck as he bent her over. His free hand fished her robes out of the way, shoving them up her back to bunch around her shoulders. He bent slightly, then slapped her on the ass to get her to move into the right position. Both girls moaned as Harry ran his cock up and down her slit, coating the tip with Hermione’s juices. Both girls began to thrash, begging him to fuck them, but Harry just gritted his teeth and ignored them, choosing to focus on his teasing. He was in charge, he would use them as he saw fit, and he was going to make damn sure that they knew that as well. He waited until they were both totally incoherent, then thrust._

                 _Hermione’s entire body shook as Harry’s cock shoved its way inside. He was huge compared to Ron, and it felt like she was being split in two. She and Ron had experimented with all sorts of charms and spells, but they were nothing compared to eight inches of the real thing hammering against her cervix like a battering ram storming the castle gates. It hurt, but in a good way. Ron had never made her feel like this, but then she had never knelt prostrate before him the way she did now for Harry. She had always been forced to take Ron from the top; otherwise the silly bastard blew his wad before she was even close to ready._

                 _Harry stayed like that for several heartbeats, not moving at all but just…filling her. It was beginning to drive Hermione nuts. She wanted him to fuck her, to abuse her pussy with his cock. She began to roll her hips, moaning encouragement, but Harry merely slapped her on the ass again and ordered, “Be still.”_

                 _Harry looked over to where Ginny was kneeling in the center of the hallway, grinding her thighs together in frustration. Her mind said she had a cock in her, but her pussy said otherwise, and if there wasn’t then they both badly wanted one. Unable to come to a decision, she merely sat there shivering waiting for someone else to make up her mind for her. Her head turned as Harry snapped his fingers at her._

_“_ _Come here, Pet,” Harry commanded, nodding in Hermione’s direction. “Your Mistress has been disobedient and needs to learn her place. You  have my permission to do anything you want to her – on one condition. If she moves, you stop. If she makes any noise, you stop. Lick her, suck her, bite her, but if she so much as flinches then you stop. Is that understood?”_

_“_ _Yes, Master!” Ginny bowed her head slavishly, refusing to meet his eyes. She crawled towards them on hands and knees, but she held her ass high with pride as she approached Hermione. She would show Harry – no, he wasn’t Harry, he was Master now – what a good little Pet she could be._

                 _Hermione trembled as she watched Ginny approach. Some dying bit of her wanted to resist Harry, to thrash about and make as much noise as possible in the hopes that someone might come and rescue her, but the rest of her knew that this way would be better. It was her destiny to submit to Harry in this and in all other things. She loved him and he loved her. She would have walked barefoot across the frozen wastes of Hell to fetch ice for his drink if he said it was too warm. So all she did was bite her lip as he grabbed her by the wrists and pinned them against her lower back with one hand. She did not whimper as his other hand grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back, forcing her to arch her spine and thrust her breasts in Ginny’s direction, all while driving his cock even deeper into her with one brutal motion._

_“_ _Do you like what you see?” Harry asked Ginny once the redhead was directly in front of Hermione. Ginny nodded silently. She couldn’t keep herself from staring at Hermione’s pale body, especially the pair of rose pink nipples that rose tauntingly from the center of the older girl’s smallish breasts. Ginny began to fondle them, enjoying how soft and firm they felt at the same time. She let out a small moue of delight, then looked at Harry with a look of horror in here eyes._

                 _Harry only smiled as he continued to thrust into Hermione’s tight cunny. “Don’t worry, Pet, I won’t punish you simply for being eager. She is, after all, quite lovely. You can only image what it feels like to be buried so deeply in her hot little cunt. I bet you want to feel it for yourself, don’t you? To have my prick shoved into you hard, over and over again until you don’t think you’ll be able to walk straight ever again. Hmmm?”_

                 _Ginny could only nod and smile happily at his suggestion as she spread her hands over Hermione’s breasts, framing the other girl’s hard nipples between her fingers. She pinched and tugged on them, causing the pale skin around them to flush red. She could see Mistress struggling to control herself, and decided that wouldn’t be allowed. Ginny rolled onto her back and slid underneath Hermione so that her legs were spread around Harry’s. Each time he thrust into Hermione, a small bit of liquid would spill out, splattering across Ginny’s stomach and groin. Still, throughout all of it Hermione refused to make any sounds or movements._

                 _At first Ginny was amazed by Mistress’s control, and thought it was something she was supposed to emulate. Then she realized that wasn’t the point at all. Master didn’t want Mistress to control herself; he wanted to break her of her will, to emphasize that he was the one who held the power in their relationship. If she was going to be a good pet, that meant she needed to help Master. Ginny looked up at the body swaying above hers and knew exactly what she had to do. Reaching up, she grabbed Hermione by the nipples and pinched them as hard as she could._

 

* * *

 

                Ron bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he struggled not to scream. The problem was he wasn’t sure if he would be screaming in pleasure or pain. He had been hanging from the wall of the Gryffindor Common Room for what seemed like hours, though it hadn’t really been more than half an hour. Ginny - sweet, lovely Ginny, his  _sister_  Ginny - was kneeling on the ground below him, noisily sucking his cock. It was a terrible, horrible thing, but his broken body was enjoying every moment of it. To make matters worse, his sister was an expert at her craft. She took turns licking, sucking, and stroking his member until Ron would have sworn he couldn’t take any more. Just when he was sure that was he was going to fill his sister’s mouth with his jiz she would slow down, almost stopping entirely without quite letting go of him. She would keep him hard, dutifully lapping up any bit of cum that might leak out in the process, while denying him the release his body craved. His cock ached and his balls throbbed, but relief never came.

                “Ginny, please,” Ron pleaded, even though he didn’t know what he pleaded for.

                “Yes, Ronald, beg your sister,” Hermione hissed as she continued to finger herself. When she smiled at him it was with artificial sweetness. “You love it, don’t you? You love how soft her tongue is as it caresses your cock, how warm her mouth is as she tastes you. Is her throat tight enough? Do you like the way it squeezes your tiny little prick? Oh, you are such a naughty boy taking advantage of a helpless girl this way!”

                “No,” Ron protested feebly. “No, you did this…”

                “Well, I  _may_  have had a bit to do with it…”

 

* * *

 

                 _Hermione’s scream echoed off the stone walls as Ginny pinched her nipples. Pleasure and pain blossomed together, setting a desperate fire in her belly. The spell connecting her and Ginny broke, isolating the two girls, and Hermione felt a momentary pang of loss as she was once again left alone in her own body. It was only momentary, however, and went completely forgotten as Harry continued to pummel her cunny with his cock. Her hands slid forward across the floor, pinning Ginny below her as their nipples ground together. The new position raised her ass higher, forcing Harry to arch over Hermione as he drove his cock even deeper into her body. She gasped as he slammed into her cervix, moaned as Ginny’s teeth sank into the side of her throat. Words went forgotten as thought abandoned her. She gave herself over to them, letting them use her body as they pleased and enjoying every minute of it._

                 _She heard Harry grunt in her ear a moment before his body tensed against hers. She willed herself tighter, and her pussy wrapped tight around his cock as he pumped her full of hot spunk. She could feel his chest rising and falling against her back as he breathed hard. She had time for one last spasm of pleasure as he dragged himself out of her._

                 _Hermione smiled slightly as Harry stood up. His cock was still hard, jutting forward as if proud of its accomplishments. A small thread of cum dangled from the tip and Hermione had to keep from licking her lips at the thought of what she might do with it. She refused to let him see how eager she was, however. She loved this new, rougher Harry and wanted to make sure he continued to maintain his dominance._

                 _Harry didn’t disappoint. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor in front of him. “You two girls show a lot of promise, but we are not done yet. Pet, I want you to kneel here on my left. Hermione, you will kneel on my right. Do I need to explain the rest?”_

                “ _No, Master.”_

                “ _No, Harry.”_

                 _Hermione did as she was bid, kneeling across from Ginny with her hands clasped behind her back. The two girls leaned forward and their lips met around the base of Harry’s cock, sliding back and forth together as they cleaned him with their tongues. The taste was slightly bitter, slightly sweet, and slightly salty, a combination of his semen, her juices, and the strawberry lip balm that Ginny had chosen to wear that day. She could feel her skin burning with embarrassment, but there was pleasure in it as well. She was the most powerful witch of her entire generation, but that came more as a burden than a gift. She was always covering for the boys, solving their problems and putting up with their little spats. Then, of course, there was the entire matter of every Dark wizard and witch in England looking to mount her head on their mantle place as a means of currying favor with Lord Voldemort. For once it was nice to give up control, to give up worrying, and to let someone else take the leads for once._

                 _Hermione didn't resist when Harry wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her away from Ginny, turned her head, and shoved his cock into Hermione's mouth. He had caught her mid-breath, so Hermione began to choke as she struggled to breathe around the thick shaft of meat that had been forced into her throat._

                “ _Do you see this, Pet?” Harry growled as he yanked Ginny forward by her hair. Hermione's lips were now spread wide around the base of his cock, and tears were sliding down her cheeks as as she tried to relax her throat muscles enough to accept him. “Do you see the way she struggles? She isn't quite ready, not yet. She has to learn that_ I _come first in all things. Don't you agree?”_

                “ _Yes, Master,” Ginny murmured._

                “ _Do you want to show her that you know better?”_

                “ _Oh, please, Master!”_

                “ _Then do so.”_

                 _Hermione fell on her ass as Harry pushed her backwards. The cold stones of the floor were a rude shock to her bare ass. She could only watch in horror as Ginny eagerly replaced her in front of Harry, slobbering all over his cock as she deep throated him with ease. Harry had her long red hair wrapped around his fist as his hips pistoned back and forth, but despite how rough Harry was with the younger girl, Ginny had no problem taking each thrust gracefully. She was even leaning into it, with one hand buried between her legs moaning as she worked herself to another orgasm._

                 _Harry let out a grunt, thrust one last time, then pulled out of the girl's sucking mouth just in time to splash his cum all over her face. A bit of it got in her left eye, but Ginny didn't flinch. Instead she waited until Harry had finished before carefully reaching up and gently brushing his cum off her face. That left it dripping from her fingers instead, a dilemma which she quickly solved by greedily licking her hands clean._

                “ _Thank you, Master,” Ginny panted. Her fingers were still busy with her clit, and her stomach was twitching as if she were struggling not to give into her climax._

                “ _I could have done that,” Hermione said waspishly._

                “ _There is no need for that, Hermione,” Harry said as he walked over and helped her to her feet. “Our dear Pet has merely had more time to grow...adjusted to the sort of demands I can place on a woman's body.”_

                “ _But-”_

                “ _Shhh,” he commanded, gently brushing his finger across her lips. “Gather your robes. The castle will begin to wake soon, and we need to be gone before then. I am thinking that we will hide in the Chamber of Secrets while we gather our strength and plan our next move.”_

 

_* * *_

 

                “But Dumbledore sealed the Chamber!” Ron protested with an added grunt. He had resisted as long as he could, but he knew it would only be a few more moments before he came.

                “Yes, Dumbledore sealed the entrance... _in Myrtle's bathroom,_ ” Hermione replied haughtily. “But did you really think that even Dumbledore could unlock all of Slytherin's secrets? If he were, we never would have had to deal with that dreadful snake second year. There are other ways, secret ways, scattered throughout the castle that don't even appear on the Marauder's Map.”

                “Then how did you find them?” Ron demanded. The pressure behind the head of his cock was becoming too much. He crushed his eyes closed, tried to focus,  _had_  to focus...

                “Why, via the Room of Requirement, of course,” Hermione explained as she leaned back in her chair. She snapped her fingers and a small brass bell materialized out of thin air. “All we needed to do was convince it to give us an entrance, and it revealed one at the base of the Divination tower.”

                “Bu- bu- oh Merlin!” Ron gasped as he finally came. Ginny's face screwed up as her brother's cum dribbled into her mouth. The taste was so bitter that she immediately gagged and spat it back out, leaving it to ooze through the few sparse hairs around his navel. She started scraping her tongue against her teeth in an effort to get ride of the taste, but only succeeded in spreading the foulness further. In the end she was left no choice but to vomit all over Ron's legs, covering them in a regurgitated orange-pink mess.

                “Oh, dear, she really didn't enjoy that, now did she?” Hermione giggled from her seat. Hermione beckoned to Ginny, who whimpered as she crawled across the floor to her Mistress's side. “There, there, Pet, don't cry. You did a good job, you really did. I am sorry you had to go through that.”

                “Master won't be upset with me, will he?” Ginny wept. Hermione started to stroke the younger girl's hair in an attempt to soothe her.

                “No, of course not. You did fine, you did great. I will make sure that Master knows that as well.”

                The door to the common room swung open as another young girl stepped through. Though just as naked as the youngest Weasley child, she moved with a greater sense of self purpose. A few inches shorter than the brunette and redhead, her long blonde hair had fallen haphazardly around her slim body, so that one pert breast was left bare while the other went covered. If the sight of Ron's crucifixion bothered her in any way she didn't let it show, but instead approached to within three feet of Hermione before curtsying low, spreading her arms wide and behind her like a bird displaying its wings. “You summoned me, Madam?”

                Ron's heart broke as he watched the display. “Oh no, Luna, not you too!” 


	4. The Rape of Luna Lovegood

Ron moaned in despair as he watched Luna curtsy to Hermione. “Please, Luna, not you too! Don't tell me that they've brainwashed you as well!”

“Oh, no!” Luna answered cheerfully as she turned to look at Ron. “I serve for the pleasure of my Dark Lord Potter quite willingly. The things he can do are really quite fascinating. By why are you nailed to the wall? And why is your stomach all shiny and sticky looking?”

“Ronald has been put there by your Lord, Luna,” Hermione explained patiently. She motioned for the younger girl to sit next to her. “He is being punished for offenses against the Dark Lord.”

“Oh, Luna, how could you? How could you join them?” Ron cried. He would have wept for the innocence that had been destroyed, if only he had any tears left to spill.

“How could she not?” Harry asked as he re-entered the Gryffindor Tower common room. He walked over to stand behind the chair Luna was sitting in, and brushed her pale hair away from the breast it was covering so that she was entirely naked in front of Ron. Her soft pink nipple stood erect as he fondled her tit, and Luna let out a quiet sigh of delight as he began to roll it back and forth between thumb and forefinger.

As Harry was teasing Luna, Ginny quickly scampered over to kneel at his side. She wrapped her arms around his leg and began to rub her cheek against his outer thigh, all while making sound quite like that of a purring cat. Harry reached down with his free hand to pat her reassuringly on the top of the head. “Pet, fetch me a pumpkin juice. One for your Mistress as well. And if there is something you want for yourself, take that as well.”

“Yes, Master,” Ginny replied. She quickly got to her feet and disappeared through the portrait door.

“Anyways, where was I?” Harry asked.

“Luna, love,” Hermione reminded him.

“Oh, yes...”

 

* * *

 

_Ginny's head bobbed up and down as she eagerly sucked on Harry's cock, taking her turn for an hour of practice at her Master's feet. It had been two days since Harry had murdered Dumbledore and Snape, seduced Hermione, and allowed for Ginny to be brainwashed by the older girl, but it had been two days well spent._

 

 _It actually hadn't been that hard to access the Chamber of Secrets; as with all things in Hogwarts, the trick had been to use the Room of Requirement. The Room had quite easily provided a passageway to the Chamber, which had turned out to be far larger than Harry remembered it. The long passage and stone skull that had served as the basilisk's lair were really nothing more than a mere foyer for the_ real _Chamber, or, rather, Chambers. Slytherin had built a quite extensive series of rooms, vaults, and libraries under the castle, all of which were packed with books, scrolls, and other relics. Some of the collection had, undoubtedly, been added by other Heirs over the years, likely including Voldemort, but Slytherin was far and away the largest contributor much to Hermione's delight._

_“This must be the largest collection of private magical writings in all of Britain!” she squealed as they investigated the first library. They were doing so carefully, as they had been forced to do it by torchlight; Slytherin's private sanctum might have held invaluable knowledge, but it had also been passed over by several generations of advances in lighting magic. Ginny, naked save for her robes – which Harry insisted she wear open at all times – knelt silently by the doorway as the older two students explored the rows of twenty foot high bookshelves._

_“Do you think this is where Voldemort learned all his secrets?” Harry asked as he pulled a book down from one of the highest shelves. It was covered by plain black leather and was entitled, 'Rituals de Walpurgis'. Curious, he braced it between a shelf and his knee, then, remembering his previous experiences with Restricted materials, carefully opened it to the middle of the book. The book was written with elegant script handwriting, but in a foreign language that made it impossible to read. The images that accompanied it, however, were entirely clear – wood block printings of various ritual circles as the arcane runes to inscribe them with, as well as animated illustrations of the various acts, mostly sexual, necessary to activate them. Harry watched in fascination as a picture of a full-breasted woman knelt in the center of a circle formed by eight men and fellated them each in turn. As each man climaxed she would bend over in front of him and spit his cum on to the floor, activating runes marked first at the four cardinal points, then the four ordinal. When she was done the entire circle began to glow, though what this was supposed to have accomplished remained a mystery, for as soon as the eighth mark began to glow the image would reset to the beginning of her taking the first man's cock into her mouth._

_“I would think he must have learned at least a few things,” Hermione agreed as she quickly browsed through a scroll before adding it to the pile of papers and books obediently floating a few feet behind her. “Just imagine, Harry! If we can unlock the potential of even half of these spells, even Voldemort will fear us.”_

_“I don't want him to fear us, Hermione,” Harry snapped. “I want him dead for what he has done! Just as I will kill anyone else who chooses to stand in our way! Voldemort is dangerous, and needs to be destroyed, but he is not so dangerous as the corrupt orders and institutions that allowed him to come to power in the first place. The Ministry is corrupt, having long sold its authority to those willing to trade money for power; the Order of the Phoenix is not much better as it seeks to claim the moral high ground while letting murderers go free.”_

_“There is no right or wrong, only power?” Hermione asked. “Didn't you say that's what Voldemort once claimed?”_

_Harry shook his head. “Voldemort is a sham, a pretend persona created by Tom Riddle to hide a frightened little boy who is scared of the world. What Riddle wants is to be worshiped by those around him, and so he seeks to create himself as a god. His rituals and traditions are merely tools of the inept to control the cowardly and gullible. True power does not hide itself or sneak around behind the backs of those who would oppose it, because true power does not fear the weak, even in numbers. COME HERE!”_

_Hermione jumped at the bellowed command, and immediately dropped what she was holding to run to where Harry was standing. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the ground in front of him. “Kneel.”_

_Hermione did as she was told. Harry stood there for a moment, considering her. “If I told you to take out my cock and suck it until my cum was pouring down your throat, would you?”_

_Hermione nodded._

_“If I told you to turn around and bend over so that I could take your ass, would you obey?”_

_Hermione nodded._

_“If I told you to remain there, utterly silent, as I did either of those to Ginny?”_

_Hermione nodded._

_“What if I told you to murder someone? To kill McGonagall?”_

_There was a small pause. Again, Hermione nodded._

_“Do you think I would use the Cruciatus or Imperius on you?”_

_This time Hermione shook her head._

_“Would you ask me why?”_

_Hermione shook her head again._

_“Then why obey?”_

_“Because...because its_ you _, Harry. Because it is what would make you happy.”_

_Harry nodded. “And that is power. Call it love, faith, or trust. When you do something for another because you fear them, then they can control you. But when you do it because you want to please them, then it is power. Now take off your clothes, because I am going to fuck you until we are both too tired to walk.”_

 

_That set the tone for the next couple of days. Not all the books were on magic, of course. Some were simply fiction, others were historical accounts of wars won and lost. More than a few were simply a representation of the hobbies of those who had collected them. And quite a bit of them were just what a horny trio of magicians who were looking to experiment needed. They spent their time practicing magic and sex, mastering new spells almost as fast as they mastered new positions. Even Ginny worked on her spell craft, as neither Harry or Hermione had any use for a squib servant. Sometimes they would do both at once. Other times, such as now, one might be practicing one art while their partner worked on another. Harry in particular found it easier to concentrate on a new spell when one of the girls had his dick half way down their throats, a position Ginny tended to end up in more than Hermione. Whether he ever noticed that his lap was more often occupied by red hair than by brown was a bit of a moot point, because if he did, Harry never said anything._

_Ginny, for her part, had gotten quite skilled at sucking him off. Her preferred technique was to close her lips together just behind the corona, so that her tongue was free to play with the head of his cock anyway she pleased while her hands worked his shaft and sack. She enjoyed feeling the length of his penis flex against the palm of her hand, almost as much as she loved the taste of the precum she sucked out of the tip. She had also become quite good at figuring just how close he was to orgasm, and would often slow down or speed up as necessary to keep him from climaxing until_ she _was ready. Only then would she run her tongue along his frenulum, driving him over the edge and earning herself a warm, gooey reward._

_She was working towards one such reward when Hermione walked in from the pantry with a frown on her face. “Harry, I think we're going to need to go topside. We're starting to run out of fresh ingredients down here, for both food and potions.”_

_Harry frowned, momentarily distracted from both his blowjob and his magic. “What do you mean, we're nearly out of ingredients?”_

_“There aren't any house elves down here,” Hermione explained. “We've gotten so used to relying on them, that it didn't even occur to me that we might need to go and get some supplies.”_

_“Well, that should be easy to take care of,” Harry answered. “KREACHER!”_

_There was a pop and a small breeze of displaced air as a small, miserable looking creature apparated into the middle of the room. The ancient looking house elf turned towards Harry, only for the snarl on his lips to freeze as he realized where he was standing. Kreacher shrank back in fear and hissed. “This is hallowed ground, sacred ground! Only the worthy belong here!”_

_Harry rose from his seat with out thinking, spilling Ginny backwards on her ass. It took him two long strides to reach the house elf, and then before anyone could think to stop him sent Kreacher spinning end over end with a single backhanded slap to the face. “This is_ MY _domain now, Kreacher, and you shall not think to preach to me about who or what belongs here. Is that clear?”_

_“C-c-clear, Master!” Kreacher stammered. He pulled himself back to his feet, then bowed so low that his forehead was pressed against the stone floor. “What is thy bidding, Master?”_

_“We need food,” Harry replied, much more calmly. “You will go and acquire it. Buy it, beg for it, or steal it, it does not matter to me. You might wish to start with the kitchens here in Hogwarts, but do not allow yourself to be discovered. It cannot get out that we are done here, not until I have unlocked all the secrets of this place. Is that understood?”_

_“Yes, Master!”_

_Harry couldn't be sure, but for a moment he thought he heard something sort of like pride in the old house elf's voice. Instead he turned to Hermione, to see what her reaction was his callous treatment of Kreacher._

_“That...was a very Malfoy thing to do,” she said at last._

_“No, that was the_ right _thing to do,” Harry said patiently. “You will see why when he returns.”_

_“But were you not controlling him through fear and violence?” Hermione asked._

_“No, I was demonstrating that my will is not to be challenged,” Harry explained. He was silent for a moment as he decided how to frame his response. “There is a fine line between the two, I admit, but the difference is there nonetheless. Let us compare Kreacher to the Malfoys, for a moment. The Malfoys want to be powerful and feared, so they are cruel and vindictive to those around them. In turn, they fear Voldemort, only following him because his existence provides them a small form of protection should they ever overstep the exceedingly permissive boundaries the Ministry has already allowed them. It also means that they must control every aspect of their follower's actions in the course of their duty. Free thinking encourages questions, questions imply disagreement, and disagreement implies a lack of power._

_“Kreacher_ started _by challenging me, so I responded to that challenge and defeated him. With that experience in mind he will remember it the next time he thinks to challenge me, and will thus question his own choices. But by giving him leeway with his task, giving him a suggestion, not an order, I leave him the ability to think for himself. I want him, I want you, and I want the others who will follow to still be able to question me simply because there might be times when I will be wrong, either because the problem has become emotional or because I am ignorant of facts that need to be considered. Oh, he'll most likely raid the kitchens here, since its easier and probably better stocked than anywhere else he could go, but this was a simple task anyway. I made the suggestion not because I wanted him to follow it, but because I wanted him to understand that I understood the task I was giving him.”_

_“You have given this a lot of thought, haven't you?” Hermione's voice was full of wonder. “I honestly admit, I never would have expected that of you, Harry.”_

_“And that, in itself, is something the Malfoys would take as a challenge,” Harry pointed out as he sat back down. His cock was still hard, so he motioned for Ginny to resume her sucking. She started to kneel before him when Hermione pushed her out of the way._

_“Go and finger yourself, Pet,” Hermione ordered as she knelt down between Harry's legs. “Your Master and I need to be alone for this conversation.”_

_Hermione's hand closed around his shaft, still slick with Ginny's saliva, and slowly started to stroke it, working a bit of precum from the tip of his cock so that she could wipe it away with her tongue. “I did not mean for it to be taken as a challenge, my Lord. Please, let me apologize.”_

_“Nor was it taken as one,” Harry replied. That didn't stop him from wrapping her long hair around his hand and forcing her head down into his lap and shoving his cock halfway down her throat. He held there for several moments, enjoying the way her throat flexed around him as Hermione struggled to control her gag reflex.”Still, I do not see why I should not take advantage of this situation to continue your lesson.”_

_“Of course, my Lord,” Hermione gasped when he finally let her up. She continued to jerk him as she leaned forward so that his cock was between her breasts. She let go of him just long enough to squeeze her tits together, earning a moan from Harry as his cock was smothered by her warm flesh. Only the tip of his member was left exposed, which Hermione continued to tease with rapid flicks of her tongue._

_“The Malfoys would have taken your comment as a challenge,” Harry repeated with a grunt. He placed his hands on her shoulders to steady himself and began to buck his hips as he tried to thrust his cock back into her mouth as he fucked her tits. “They would have seen it as in implication that you though them ignorant, rather than an admission of ignorance on your part. But that is because you were never there for all those little quiet chats Dumbledore would spirit me away for. For more than five years he would preach to me about all of Voldemort's shortcomings, even as he exposed his own. Dumbledore knew how foolish Voldemort's insistence on absolute control was, and never let a moment pass by when he couldn't remind me of that. But at the same time he never realized how flawed his own style was, always letting us race and get ourselves intro trouble, providing just enough information without actually providing us tangible support. A strong leader must trust his subordinates, but must also be in control for he is ultimately responsible for their actions.”_

_“Mmm,” Hermione moaned. She had allowed Harry's cock to slip just a little, just enough for the tip to pass between her lips. The vibrations left him shivering in his seat. He could feel the pressure mounting just behind the head of his penis, even as Hermione began to suck harder._

_“Hermione, I am about to cum,” Harry warned._

_“MMM.”_

_“Oh, gods.”_

_Hermione's hand squeezed tight around his shaft as the first spurt of cum gushed out, trying to control the flood as it spilled into her mouth. She didn't dare try to swallow, but instead let his sperm fill between her cheeks until she was sure she had gotten every last drop. It was only once she was sure that he had nothing left to give did she dare to drink it down._

_Just as the last drop slid down her throat there was a pop of displaced air accompanied by a slight breeze. Kreacher knelt in the center of the room, his forehead pressed against the stone floor as he squealed, “I hope I did not disturb Master's pleasure!”_

_“No, Kreacher, we had just finished,” Harry answered reassuringly. He guided Hermione into his lap for some cuddle time, then looked over to study his servant. Kreacher's left hand held four large brown sacks, presumably filled with the supplies he had been sent to gather. His right hand, however, clutched a head of white blonde hair, which was in turn attached to the unconscious form of a girl._

_“Kreacher, who is that?” Hermione demanded, even though she knew there could be only one answer._

_“I caughts her sneaking around in the kitchens!” Kreacher wailed. “She saw me, yes, she did! Master did not want me seen, I am sorry!”_

_“So you brought her back here?” Hermione asked in confusion._

_“Master did not tell me what to do if I was seen!” Kreacher protested._

_“And this is why I want intelligent followers, not minions,” Harry whispered in Hermione's ear. To Kreacher he said, “You did the right thing, Kreacher. My Lady and I will take care of this...this time. But be more careful the next. When I say I do not want you seen, I mean it.”_

_“Yes, Master, thank you, Master!” Kreacher cried, slamming his head into the floor with each 'Master'._

_“Go, put away the supplies,” Harry ordered as he pulled his wand out. He pointed it at the girl and bellowed,_ “Rennervate!”

_The girl on the floor groaned as consciousness returned on a wave of power. She pushed herself upright, then frowned as she realized who was sitting above her. “Harry? Hermione? But you're dead! The Death Eaters who killed Snape and Dumbledore, they... Where are your clothes?”_

_“We have chosen to do without clothes for the moment, Luna,” Harry answered. “And it was not the Death Eaters who killled Dumbledore and Snape. It was myself.”_

_“What?” Luna looked stricken by such a horrible thought. “No, that can't be. You are Harry Potter. You are the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, a force for-”_

_“A force for change,” Harry interrupted her. “To say a force for good is no longer correct. When people speak of a force for good, they mean only those who seek to protect the status quo. I will no longer be a pawn in the games of others, but the hand that moves the pawns.”_

_“But...” Luna frowned. “Am I dreaming? Is that why you are not wearing clothes?”_

_“Perhaps,” Harry smiled cruelly as he stood up and raised his wand. “If this was a dream, would I do this?_ Evrardicus malvus tentacalus!”

_Purple light shot out of the tip of his wand and curled around his body before plunging into his shoulder blades and spine. From each spot where the spell connected a thick black tentacle erupted from his back, waving in the air like a demented parody of an angel's wings. Each one was nearly as long as he was tall, and roughly as wide as his forearm, though the magic allowed him to control them without having to adjust the way he was standing. He waved a pair of fingers forward, a unneccessarily dramatic move as the tentacles obeyed his every thought. The two connected to his shoulder blades whipped forward and wrapped around Luna's wrists and tied them together before dragging her off the floor and yanking her into the air so that she was suspended only a few feet away from Lord Potter._

_“Harry, please...” Luna wept._

_“No, not this time, Luna,” Harry replied as he shook his head. One of the tentacles connected to his spine slithered between them. The tip began to writhe and ooze, until it had flattened down to a razor sharp edge. Slowly, carefully, it started at the top of her robes and sliced downwards, cutting through her clothes with remarkable easy. As soon as it had slit the top of her skirt two more tentacles dashed forward to remove the ruined garments, including her bra and panties. “If you have the strength to stop me, then do so. Otherwise, I shall simply take what I want.”_

_The bottom pair of tentacles seized her ankles and forced her legs up and to the side, exposing her cunny to Harry and Hermione. An unruly thatch of blonde curls sat above a set of pink lips the color of spring roses. Harry licked the tip of his thumb before reaching out to caress the tender young flesh before him, carefully spreading her sex to look for her hymen. He didn't really know what he was looking for – the texts he had been studying had been somewhat vague in their descriptions – but an idea was already beginning to take form in his mind and he thought the thing might as well be done properly. He was mildly surprised when he discovered the thin membrane was still intact. Harry would have been willing to wager that Luna would have been an early experimenter, but then again it was also possible that her particular brand of crazy didn't make it easy to find a willing partner. That didn't matter at this point, however. By the time they were done with her she would be a perfectly willing brood mare._

_“Harry, please, put me down,” Luna begged._

_Harry's wand bobbed as he cast another spell, “_ Cantharidius!”

_Luna's entire body rocked as the spell took hold. Every last nerve seemed to have been lit on fire, and she was suddenly incredibly wet. The lips of her sex spread themselves of their own volition, an open invitation to any cock that might be available for their embrace. And yet for all that her body was screaming its need to be fucked, her mind was rebelling against the very thought._

_“No, no, no, no...”_

_“Yes,” Harry said as he pulled her closer. His hands reached out to fondle her small breasts, pinching her hard little nipples until she screamed in delighted fear. The tentacles shifted so that her arms were pinned behind her back and her legs spread further for ease of access. Harry stepped forward and began to rub his penis across the slick entrance to her cunt, enjoying the sight of her squirming at his touch. It was impossible to tell if she was trying to get closer or pull away, and it was quite possible that the answer was both._

_“No, Harry, stop...”_

_“Shut up, Luna,” Harry commanded as he thrust forward, impaling her on his cock with one brutal motion._

_Luna shrieked as her virginity was torn away. Harry leaned in as he continued to fuck her and clamped down with his teeth on the base of her neck hard enough to draw just a bit of blood. Luna screamed again, and this time there was a mix of pleasure in the pain and fear as her first orgasm crashed over through her body. Her cunt spasmed around his cock, but it was still too soon for Harry. He gave Luna a few more rough jabs, then had the tentacles drop her on the hard floor._

_Luna was clearly confused, torn between the lust and pain that Harry had inflicted on her. She started to try and crawl away, but there was nowhere for her to go. Harry watched her for a moment, and waited for her to get the first glimmer of hope before he had the tentacles seize her by the wrists again and drag her backwards over the floor. The rough stones scraped at her skin, leaving it scratched and torn. The tentacles raised her up then drove her back down, forcing Luna to her knees in front of Harry. His member bobbed only a few inches away from her face, still coated in a thick mixture of her juices._

_“You know, Luna, you were always a bit of an outsider, even among our little group,” Harry said, sounding somewhat bored with her. “Never quite as smart as Hermione, but too spacey to be as dependable as Ron. And while you have clearly developed well, you still don't quite compare to Ginny. She's got a bit more tit than you, and the red hair is really a bit of a turn on, don't you think?”_

_“Harry, what are you doing?” Hermione sighed. “You make it sound like she actually has a place here.”_

_“Oh, but she does,” Harry said as he cupped Luna under her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. “Think about it, Hermione. Every good Lord needs to have an heir, doesn't he? While I'm not quite ready to father one with you, there is no reason not to father a bastard on this little bitch.”_

_Hermione raised an eye at his answer. “Oh? And when you have fathered a child on me? Then what?”_

_“Who knows?” Harry answered. He shrugged nonchalantly, but also made it a point to grab Luna by the hair to make sure she didn't try to escape. “They could be friends. They could be rivals. For all we know they could end up as lovers.Does it really matter one way or the other?”_

_“Harry...” Luna moaned._

_“Quiet,” Harry ordered as he slapped her with the back of his hand._

_“Lovers, Harry?” Hermione asked. “Our child and hers?”_

_“There are spells, Hermione,” Harry said. “They'll make sure the children are healthy. After all, they worked for the Egyptians.”_

_Hermione shook her head, but she was smiling. “Oh, why do I even bother? It isn't like I would stop you, anyways. Fine, have your fun, and if she gets pregnant, she gets pregnant.”_

_“Exactly,” Harry said with a nod. His tentacles forced Luna around the other way, pushing down her head so that she was down on all fours with her ass raised high. She continued to whimper in protest until one of the tentacles forced its way into her mouth and down her throat, leaving her just enough room to breathe as it gagged her. Harry knelt behind her and brutally shoved his cock into her. She was so hot, the perfect mix of slick and tight. He laughed as her body convulsed from an involuntary orgasm, squeezing his cock tight as he rammed her as deep as he could go. His could feel the cum building in his shaft, and made no particular effort to contain it, but instead began to hammer her with short, fast thrusts designed to dump his load as close to her womb as possible._

_“Exactly.”_

 

_* * *_

 

“We obliviated her not long after that,” Harry admitted. “Her screaming was getting to be a bit much, to be honest. And frankly, it is much more fun when they are willing than when they are trying to fight back. Don't you agree, Luna?”

“Yes, Master,” Luna obediently replied. Her hand moved so that it was resting on her belly, and she couldn't help but smile...


	5. The Fall of Draco Malfoy

 “Don't feel bad for her, Ron,” Harry commanded as he leaned back in his chair. Luna shifted with him, obediently remaining in position as he continued to stroke her. “I haven't gotten her knocked up – yet – but I will soon. She'll make a good little brood mother, won't you Luna?”

“Oh, yes, my Lord!” Luna giggled.

Ron shook his head, tried to plead with her, to plead with Harry, but his throat was too dry. He could no longer feel his shoulders and arms, and every breath burned as his lungs struggled. It was getting hard to think, his mind slowing down as if the thoughts had to drag themselves through a thick layer of slushy mud to get themselves heard. He opened his mouth to try and say something, but all he managed was a weak, wheezing cough. Thin, liquidy shit trickled down the inside of his legs as how bowels let go.

“Well, he didn't last nearly as long as I had thought,” Hermione pronounced with a frown.

“You always were a bit of an optimist where we were concerned,” Harry chuckled. “But Ron was always a bit of a church mouse, wasn't he? I mean, I, at least, had Quidditch to keep me in shape. And I know you well enough to know you probably kept yourself busy...?”

“A simple regimen of healthy exercises, of course,” Hermione replied. She paused to give her breasts a bit of a squeeze. “”Though not so much that I might have overdone it, of course. A girl must consider _all_ aspects of her figure, after all.”

This time Harry didn't just chuckle, but laughed out loud. “Why, Hermione! Whoever knew that you could be so vain! And here everyone thought you were only interested in books, studying, and studying books!”

Hermione flushed at his comment. “Just because you and that... that... boy over there couldn't see whammph!”

Her protest was cut off has Harry pushed Luna aside, grabbed Hermione by the back of the neck, and pulled her into a long, deep kiss. Hermione resisted for a moment, not wanting to waste a good tirade, but it wasn't long before Harry had managed to coax her lips apart so that he could tease her tongue with his own. “Hermione Granger, you are the, not one of but the, loveliest girl that I know, and I could not imagine anyone else as the queen at my side as you are also the smartest. Do not believe for a moment that I never noticed you; only my own fears of impotence and losing you ever gave me cause to hold back.”

“And now?” Hermione whispered.

“And now we shall upend the wizarding world and forge of the ruins a new kingdom,” Harry murmured reassuringly. “Centuries from now the students at this castle will not be learning about Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, but Hermione the First, the queen who helped to found a reign that lasted for a thousand years.”

“A thousand years?” Hermione giggled. “Harry, be reasonable-”

Harry shook his head. “Why not? We know the Philosopher's Stone is a real thing, Hermione. And if Nicolas Flamel could figure out how to make back in the 1200s, I don't see why you couldn't make a better one with more than seven hundred years worth of improved magical knowledge to help you. I do not fear death, Hermione, not when I know that with you at my side we will end up conquering it instead.”

“A thousand years,” Hermione whispered as she sat back to think of the possibilities. She thought about her use of the Time Turner back in their third year, and how many opportunities it had opened up for her. But the pace she had been trying to set for herself had been too grueling to sustain for long, and she had easily given it up rather than suffer through that sort of insanity for another year. But if she had a thousand years... Forget simple limiting herself to magical studies! There were all sorts of fascinating developments coming out of the muggle scientific world, wonders and man made miracles that she only saw hints of when she visited her parents for the breaks and holidays.

What if that was the key to solving the world's great problems? It was supposed to be impossible for magic to _make_ food, but why didn't they use magic to _grow_ food? With the right applications of power even the most barren deserts could be turned into breadbaskets. Then there was the matter of disease. Hermione had been curious, and as far as she could tell there _weren't_ any magical STDs, while contraception was handled by a simple potion. She doubted it would solve the whole abortion debate (the same fundamentalists who opposed abortion on religious grounds were unlikely to be thrilled by a solution that forced them to rely on witches and wizards, after all) but it would help things in the long run. And space travel! What if the Bubble Headed charm could be modified and expanded to encompass an entire ship or settlement? How difficult would it be to terraform mars? Forget hiding from the muggles, they could claim an entire planet for their own!

Hermione wondered, briefly, if she was the first to imagine these things, and how many other witches might have already failed in her place. At the same time, there was certainly a derth of original thinking in the magical world, and their continued insistence that muggles be treated like second hand citizens meant the average wizard was glaringly ignorant of the world around him. She doubted even Harry had enough imagination, even though he certainly had the ambition and enthusiasm to support her. _She could do this!_

“Oh, Harry, that would be absolutely wonderful!” she cried out. This time she pulled _him_ into the kiss, leaving him happily dazed when they finally broke apart to breathe. “What is our next move?”

“We need to get Hogwarts closed,” Harry stated firmly. He motioned to Ron. “This is a good start, of course. Between the death of Dumbledore and Snape, the combined “disappearance” of the four of us, and now Ron's death, it has been demonstrated that the school is terribly unsafe for the remaining students. The problem, however, is that all the casualties have been rather lopsided on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix and its allies. McGonagall will do everything she can to keep the school open despite that, thinking that this will be allow her to concentrate the Order's remaining resources in one place. What we need to do now is hammer the other side almost as bad as the Order has been hammered. We need to get Lucious Malfoy involved.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“Simple,” Harry answered with a cruel smile. “We are going to do something we have both wanted to do very much since the first time we met him: we are going to kill Draco Malfoy.”

Across the room Ron gave another hacking cough. This, for some reason, was especially irritating to Hermione. “Harry, can I please just finish him off now?”

“Of course, Hermione,” Harry answered with a nod. “I would hate to deprive you of the honor. Though, a favor? If you could please try the killing curse?”

Hermione tipped her head sideways. “Harry?”

“Please?” Harry repeated. “There is something I must now if we are to continue, something that I am still not sure of. I think this might prove it once and for all.”

Hermione paused as she tried to decide what it was that Harry might still be concerned over, having already killed two men, raped a girl, and helped to brainwash another. “I don't understand.”

“And I would prefer not to explain it, lest I ruin the experiment,” Harry said sternly. “Now, if you would please?”

Hermione stared at him for a moment before shrugging and turning towards Ron. She raised her wand high and cast, _“Avada kedavara!”_

Nothing happened. There was no flash of green light, no unerring beam of light, and Ron's chest continued to rattle as he slowly slipped into death. Hermione looked at her wand with a frown, raised it once more, and this time bellowed, _“AVADA KEDAVRA!”_

Still nothing.

Behind her, Harry let out a sigh of relief. “Now the strangulation curse.”

Hermione shook her head and took a moment to regain her composure, then turned back to Ron and said, “ _Asphyxia.”_

Ron immediately began to thrash as all the air around his head suddenly vanished. They could see him trying to scream, his mouth spasming wide as he tried desperately to find any oxygen at all, but the curse was absolute in its effects. He managed to rip one of his arms free of the nail pinning it to the wall, splashing the room around him with blackish blood, and grabbed at his throat, clawing at his skin. There was an audible crack as his struggles broke one of his legs, his entire body sagging to that side as it lost some of its support. When it was over he half hung from the wall, his ripped open hand dangling towards the floor as if he was stretching for something just out of reach.

Hermione turned back to Harry, a look of panic on her face. “Harry, I'm sorry, I don't know why it didn't work! I know I was doing the motions right, and the words are simple... Maybe I just need to practice more.”

Harry shook his head. “I'm sorry, Hermione, but I _wanted_ you to fail. Do you remember what Moody told us fourth year? _Only those with a killing intent, a pure hatred in their hearts, can cast the killing curse._ It means that despite all that we have done, that despite all we are planning to do, we are at least pure in our intentions.”

Hermione sagged in relief. She hadn't failed him, after all. “So we're going to kill Draco next?”

Harry nodded. “With Draco dead, Lucius will have a fit. Draco is not just his only son, he is practically an extension of Lucius, and heir of just more than property but of body and mind as well. We'll most likely have to kill Crabbe and Goyle as well, and while we know their parents aren't as powerful within the ranks of the Death Eaters the fact that their children were killed as well will send the message that _no_ Death Eater's child is safe. Unlike McGonagall, who still trusts her allies, they will become paranoid that their own spawn are next, and they will fear betrayal at the hands of others with in their cabal. If we're truly lucky, they might actually go to war amongst themselves on the basis that this was all some sort of twisted power play to steal the Malfoy's favor away from Voldemort. They will quickly pull their own children from Hogwarts in belief that they can best protect them themselves.”

“That's...” Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “That's _twisted_ Harry. Why would they ever think that?”

“Because they know the Order would never go after children, while they would,” Harry explained with a smile. “And who else would be doing it? Another Dark Lord?”

Harry's voice was almost dripping with sweetness, and it made Hermione giggle again. She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him towards the secret passage they had used to enter the Gryffindor tower, motioning for Luna and the recently returned Ginny to follow them. Once they had returned to the Chamber of Secrets she quickly locked the other two girls into one of the bed chambers, leaving them to entertain themselves for the night as _she_ was determined to have Harry all to herself.

It wasn't until much, much later that she realized Harry had never tried to cast the Killing Curse himself.

 

* * *

 

Ron's death had even more of a consequence than Harry could have imagined, because while the Weasley's might not have been that popular among the general population of magical Britain, they _were_ still one of the oldest known pureblood families. Among the Order of the Phoenix they were _also_ the most popular bunch, both for their cheerfullness, relentless determination, and Molly's cooking. The loss of their youngest son, so close on the disappearance of their only daughter, and both events surely at the hands of the Death Eaters, was almost enough to get Hogwarts closed on its own and was enough to draw the Order and the Death Eaters into open conflict, with particularly lopsided results in the Order's favor.

When Ginny had disappeared, there had been some hope that she might have been found or possibly negotiated for. The fact that the Death Eaters had not spoken about her disappearance had been seen as a _good_ thing by the Order; the Death Eaters were never hesitant to boast about their actions, and so their silence could only be interpreted as a sign they were planning something that required Ginny as bait. Ronald's death put an end to those hopes, as well as any reluctance the Order to expand the conflict.

The attacks were swift, brutal, and decicisive. The Rowle estate was the first struck, in an attack led by Molly Weasley herself. A powerful witch in her own right, Molly announced her presence by simply apparating into the road before the estate's heavy iron gates and blasting them to ashes, and then proceeded to hex the first three servants who tried to stop her. She contented herself with blowing up various buildings and fixtures of the estate in a seemingly unstoppable rage, demanding that Rowle appear himself to face her.

It took several minutes for Rowle to rally his remaining servants and followers, as well as his courage, in which time Molly was determined to have started no less than forty independent fires, destroyed well over ten thousand galleons worth of art, and level the entire eastern wing of the guest house. She had just reached the front doors of the main house when Rowle and his minions confronted her. At that point she was outnumbered by more than twenty to one, but still managed to let off a single stunner before she was forced to raise a shield to protect against the avalanche of curses they unleashed upon her. It is not known why Rowle never availaed himself of the Killing Curse, though it was later suspected that he thought he might have been able to salvage his “innocence” once the battle was complete. As it was, Molly Weasley was nearly undone by her attackers.

Everything changed when the dragons attacked.

Charlie led the charge directly, mounted on the same Hungarian Horntail that featured so prominently in the Triwizard tournament. Behind him came another three Horntails, mounted by other dragon handlers he had befriended in Romania, while a fifth Horntail would later be discovered north of Cardiff, though whether it was supposed to have a rider was never determined. Charlie and his friends did not truly have control over the monsters, but instead settled for simply aiming them in the rough direction of the fight below before disapparating. Molly Weasley waited a moment longer, than disapparated herself, leaving the Death Eaters to face the four angry dragons.

Of the Death Eaters, there were no survivors.

A counter attack was quickly mounted on the Burrow, but once again the Death Eaters displayed an appalling amount of contempt for their opponents which proved to be their undoing. The Weasley clan and their allies had been busy in the time since Ginny's disappearance, reinforcing the Burrow and Grimmauld Place against further attacks. While Grimmauld place was handled by the more free range members of the Order, the Burrow was handled directly by the Weasleys, particularly Bill and Arthur who each brought their own specialized brand of mayhem to the table. Bill's career with Gringotts had exposed him to all sorts of terrible, lethal, ancient, and, most importantly, _foreign_ curses, many of which he went on to reproduce at various locations around his family's home. What Arthur Weasley did was much more dangerous.

He simply mixed magic with muggle security devices.

The Death Eaters attacked two days after the Rowle estate was destroyed.

Again, there were no survivors.

Unfortunately, neither did the Burrow. Now homeless, and with most of their wards destroyed, the Weasleys were forced to go underground, disappearing to Romania and Egypt where they could be reasonably confident the Death Eaters could not find them.

The sudden outbreak of violence also meant a much tighter level of security at Hogwarts. While the Dementors were, of course, never to be brought back, there were other precautions that could be taken. Aurors stalked the halls, cursing the need to play babysitter while a war erupted outside Hogwarts' walls. Centaurs patrolled the grounds, looking for any signs of intruders. Even the giant squid had become restless, and could now be seen swimming in slow circles around the lake with an escort of merfolk, as if the Death Eaters might attempt to enter via submarine.

Fortunately, Draco Malfoy could be counted on to flout any rule that he deemed inconvenient, so it was only a matter of patience. It only took three days for him to begin sneaking out of the Slytherin dungeons late at night, and only a day after that for Kreacher to discover his comings and goings. This gave Harry and Hermione exactly the opportunity they were looking for.

“Are you sure about this, Kreacher?” Harry asked as he looked over the Marauder's Map for the fourth time since Kreacher had reported back in. It was honestly a silly question. Kreacher had changed over the past several weeks. The ancient house elf was standing straighter, and moved with more confidence. He just seemedhappier now that he once again belonged to a proper master, one who behaved the way a master ought. The idea that he might lie to Harry for any reason was just unimaginable.

“Yes, Master,” Kreacher answered, bowing so low that his forehead was pressed against the stone floor. “I heard the blonde boy talking to the girl myself. They will be at the Astronomy Tower at the time the boy said. He said he paid off one of the stalking men to make sure they would be alone.”

“And since it is Malfoy, I think we can expect his man to stay bought, too,” Harry murmured. “No need to irk Lucius just because his son wants to snog some girl.”

He traced the line of one of the secret passages leading to the Tower. There was, of course, a connection from the Chamber they could use. Slytherin had made sure of that a long time ago. The one unknown factor was just where, exactly, the 'stalking man', as Kreacher had put it, would decide was far enough that his benefactor would have the desired privacy without risking leaving one of the precious wards uncovered. Or would he?

“You look puzzled,” Hermione said as she crept up behind Harry to peek over his shoulder. Something about Ron's death had brought them closer in a way she hadn't expected, but neither did she regret it. From the way things were going, neither did Harry.

“We need to be alone when we go up the Tower,” Harry sighed. He stopped and rubbed his eyes, trying to force his exhaustion away. Between the girls, the studying, and the planning he had been wearing himself out. He desperately wanted to take his broom out for a flight to clear his head, but knew that was impossible. “I can get us up there with the cloak, but that won't be enough to keep people from finding us once the screaming starts.”

“I think I have a spell for that,” Hermione offered as she looked at the map. “I've been tinkering with enlarging some of the various hexes and charms in order to get them to cover a larger area. I also found the basic charm that makes Time Turners work. If you're willing to give it a shot...”

“Time travel?” Harry asked.

“Not...exactly,” Hermione answered slowly. “More like their time can't cross our time? Does that make any sense?”

“No, but see if you can explain it,” Harry answered dubiously. He had never admitted it to anyone, but frankly the entire notion of time travel freaked him out the more he considered it. Every time he looked back on the day they rescued Sirius he tried to think of things he might have changed, then wondered why he couldn't change them, which led to what would happen if he did. In the end, it just gave him a headache. There were simply too many unknowns.

“Well, remember when I said we couldn't interact with each other?” Hermione asked. She waited for Harry to nod before continuing. “Well, according to what I was reading, you're not _supposed_ to be able to interact with yourself, or anyone else for that matter. At least, that's the way the original spell was designed. I don't know if the people who make the Time Turners are just incompetent or working from a different version of the spell, but what they are doing is not the right way to be doing it. Or maybe it is a side effect of turning it into an artifact, again, I don't know. But I've managed to unravel the original spell enough to figure out how the protection is supposed to work. It basically keeps their timelines from crossing paths with anything in our bubble and vice versa.”

“That's...amazing,” Harry said. “Hermione, with a spell like that we could go anywhere!”

Hermione shook her head. “Not as I have it now. Maybe if I figure out the whole time travel part of it, but right now it only affects a fixed area several dozen feet across, and only until the caster leaves. Once I leave the zone, the spell would break. As it stands right now I have the 'time' bit but not the 'travel'.”

Harry was still all smiles. “For our use that's good enough, and I am sure that you can always figure it out later if we need to. But for now, get some rest. And I _mean_ rest,” he added with a chuckle when she reached for him. He gave her a kiss to tide her over instead. “We have a big day tomorrow. If all goes according to plan, Hogwarts will soon fall.”

 

* * *

 

Malfoy scowled as he and Pansy hiked their way up the stairs to the top of the Astronomy tower. It seemed a bit much for just a quick shag, but then it wasn't like they could just keep using his chamber in the dungeons. It wasn't so much that people would talk, so much as that it was just plain _boring._ What was the point of having the power to do whatever you want, whenever you wanted, if you never got the chance to flaunt that power? Fooling around in the different portions of the castle had nothing to do with wanting to be seen or caught, but because he _could_. Rules were for lesser people, mudbloods and race traitors, not Malfoys.

Ok, fine, the tower was also a good way to shut Pansy up. The hag seemed to think it was “romantic” to do things like eat a picnic under the stars before putting out. Like it was her due or something. She would start to pout if he didn't treat her to things every so often, and it was getting harder and harder to figure out what it was she was aiming for. It wasn't like he didn't already know that she was in it for wealth and power. He would have been insane to think otherwise, but for some reason just giving her the occasional bit of jewelry or clothes wasn't enough for her. He'd have probably already left her if it wasn't for her ability to suck a snitch through fifty feet of tangled hose. Sadly, that wasn't an ability one wanted to turn down when the rest of the castle was under the watchful gaze of a bunch of armed guards, many of whom weren't on his father's payroll.

“Oh, Malfoy, it is so beautiful up here!” Pansy cooed once they got to the top. She pressed against his side, and from the way her body flattened against his he could tell that she wasn't wearing anything beneath her robes. He tried to sneak a peek down the front, but the light wasn't good enough. Still, maybe dinner would be able to wait, after all.

“Yes, it really is beautiful up here, isn't it?” a voice crooned from behind them.

Malfoy spun, his face a mask of rage as he prepared to chew out whoever it was that had decided to interrupt his date. The words died on his lips as he looked at the foursome standing there. Well, three of them were standing, one was kneeling. Instead all Malfoy managed to gasp out was a strangled, _“Potter!?”_

“In the flesh, as it were,” Harry answered with a nod. He was dressed in a normal school uniform, shirt, tie, trousers, and robe. The girls, however...were not. Hermione, who was standing on his right, and Ginny, who was standing on his left, were both wearing their school robes, and just like Pansy they weren't wearing anything underneath. Unlike Pansy, they were also brazenly wearing their robes open so that everyone could see that they weren't wearing anything. Luna, on the other hand, was kneeling in front of Ginny and did not have a stitch of clothing to her name. Despite that, she was glaring defiantely at Draco and Pansy, as if daring them to challenge any of the foursome. The wand clutched in her hand meant she was ready for anything they might try, despite her seemingly helpless position.

_“POTTER IS HERE! POTTER IS HERE! COME QUICK, POTTER IS HERE!”_ Pansy started shrieking at the top of her lungs.

“You might as well not bother,” Harry said casually. “Hermione is here as well, and she has already made quite sure that we won't be disturbed.”

Draco was a little quicker on the uptake, and lunged for his wand. It didn't do him any good however, as his hand had barely made it into his robes when Ginny and Luna both shrieked, _“Expelliarmus!”_ Draco's eyes went wide as his wand was flung away from him and went sailing over the tower's edge...only to hang immobile a good ten feet out.

“Interesting,” Hermione said as she turned to look at it. “Perhaps the radius of this spell is larger than I thought.”

“Or you are just more powerful than the wizard who came up with it,” Harry remarked. He had to raise his voice a bit to be heard over Pansy. “That wouldn't surprise me either.”

“Ginny, do something about the screaming?” Hermione asked.

“Of course, Mistress,” Ginny answered, adding a slight bow. She turned her wand towards Pansy and uttered, _“Silencio.”_

Pansy continued to flap her lips for several moments before she realized that she could no longer make any noise. Only then did she reach for her wand, only to realize it was useless without the ability to speak. She had never quite gotten the hang of silent casting and now it was time for her to pay the price of her laziness as Ginny sauntered over with a smile and removed the wand from Pansy's unresisting grip.

Draco took a step back and to the side, so that Pansy was partially between him and his long standing rivals. “What do you think you are doing Potter? When my father hears of this-”

“When your father hears of this the only thing he is going to do is weep for his dead son, Malfoy,” Harry snorted. “And stop trying to hide behind the girl, Malfoy. She is in no position to save you from what is coming, even if she wanted to. Which, considering you are currently trying to use her as a human shield, isn't going to be all that likely in the near future.”

Pansy gaped in shock at Harry's statement, then whirled around to stare accusingly at the cowering Draco when she realized Harry was right. She started screaming at her fellow Slytherin, or at least tried to. It took her a moment to realize she was still under Ginny's hex – a hex which did nothing to stop her from slapping Draco across the face with enough force that the palm of her hand broke his nose.

“You stupid cunt!” Draco shrieked as he stumbled backwards from the blow. He lunged back at her, only to get blasted sideways as Harry hit him with a burst of raw power.

“None of that now, Malfoy,” Harry tsked. “It isn't up to you to decide what happpens to Pansy. That right belongs to Hermione.”

Both girls gave him equallly surprised looks, which only made Harry laugh. “Well, fair is fair, isn't it?” he asked Hermione. “I know she has made life as burdensome for you as Draco has for me. Why should I steal her fate from your hands?”

“But I-” Hermione paused, suddenly unsure of herself. “Harry, we never discussed this!”

“So?” Harry shrugged off her protest. Instead he took Hermione by the hand and pulled her into embrace. His left hand slipped around her waist so that it was dangerously close to her groin, while his right hand closed over the hand holding her wand and held it aimed at Pansy. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “We will find ourselves constantly in times of decision, Hermione. Here, now, right this second, you hold her life in your hands. She is yours to do with as you please. Kill her quick, or kill her slow. Set her free, or make her your slave. I will not make this choice for you.”

Hermione nodded as she knew what she had to do. “Come here, Pansy.”

Pansy shook her head in refusal as she took a step away from the vengeful Gryffindor, but Hermione was not be denied. _“Prostratus!”_

Pansy let out a silent scream as the spell yanked her off her feet and dragged her to the ground in front of Hermione. Her arms were yanked forward so that her hands were pinned together as her head was pressed down between her arms by invisible hands. Those same hands forced her to kneel so that her hips were raised and as they crossed her legs at the ankle. Her body began to quiver as she was forced to hold the unfamiliar position, and her mouth filled with salty, bitter taste. It took her a moment to realize it was the taste of her own fear, an emotion she had long since forgotten. She had always been the one in the position of power, and to be dominated so easily, especially by a bookworm such as Hermione, was absolutely galling.

Hermione stepped forward and used the toe of her shoe to lift the bigger girl's chin up so that they were looking into one another's eyes. A simple motion dismissed Ginny's spell of silence. “You have been a thorn in my side ever since we first started school together, Pansy. Give me one good reason why I should not kill you and be done with it?”

“Please?” Pansy begged, unsure of what to say.

“Please? Is that all?” Hermione looked up at Harry with a look of disgust on her face. “I don't think she wants it enough, Harry. We might as well kill her once we are done with Malfoy.”

“No!” Pansy gasped.

“No?” Hermione asked doubtfully. “Then what are you willing to do?”

“Anything, please, I would do anything!”

“Pansy!” Draco snapped.

“Quiet, Malfoy,” Harry ordered. “ _Petrificus totalus!”_

Malfoy's body froze in the last position he had been standing in, legs slightly spread, mouth open, and his finger outstretched as if to scold someone. Only his eyes could still move, and the hate that filled them was quite obvious.

“You know, Malfoy, you're only still alive because I want to see how this plays out before I kill you,” Harry reminded him before adding a levitiation charm to the series of embarassments Malfoy was already suffering. With a little bit of direction from Harry's wand the Slytherin was sent over the edge of the tower's railings, suspended over the several hundred foot drop to the ground below. “Now behave before I decide to just drop you and be done with it.”

Harry turned back to Hermione. “What where you saying, love?”

Hermione looked back and forth between Harry and Draco as an idea began to take form. “In that case, she has until you kill Malfoy to make you cum. If she succeeds, we will keep her. If not, we toss her over the tower just like him.”

“ _What?_ ” Harry and Pansy exclaimed at the same time. Harry said it with a grin, though, while Pansy looked worried.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry. “Oh, stop being silly, Harry. Can you honestly say that if I kept her around that you _wouldn't_ try her out at least once? At least this way we will know ahead of time if she is worth keeping. Though we'll have to set a few ground rules, of course.”

“Of course,” Harry said with a nod. He was still smiling.

“First, no instant kills,” Hermione said as she ticked her points off on her fingers. “No _asphxyia,_ no _obruo_ , and no _oblido_. Second, you cannot repeat the same spell twice. Third, Pet, Luna, or I can step into help her at any time.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at the last condition, which earned a shrug from Hermione. “I have no interest in helping her unneccessarily, but that doesn't mean I think any of us should be denied our fun, either.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Pansy asked hesitantly. This new Hermione scared her rather badly.

“Do you want to live?” Hermione asked.

“Yes!”

“Then no. Get to work.”

Pansy closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself. She had never seen the Gryffindor's like this before (and why did Luna and Ginny have such dazed looks on their faces?) and that bothered her. _She_ was supposed to be the one lording it up over the lesser folk, not being bossed around by them! And yet, at the same time there was a small bit that couldn't help but feel a bit excited by the way they were treating her. Oh, not because she had any particular desire to see the overly praised team of Potter and Granger acting like, well, Slytherins. But at the same time, she had always known that Draco was just using her the same way most boys used their socks. It hadn't bothered her, not really, though she made a point of making sure he treated her to nice things so that she could at least be using him as he used her. From the way Potter and Granger were staring at her, though, she could tell this was different. This was going to require more than just spreading her legs and listening to a boy grunt as she faked a few moans of her own, and she wondered if she would truly be skilled enough to win Granger's bet.

Standing up slowly, Pansy shifted to face Harry with what she hoped as a seductive smile. She slid her robe off her shoulders as she began to walk towards him, so that it slid down her arms and bared her breasts. Her smile became a little more genuine when she heard Luna hiss jealously; of the four girls, Pansy was easily the most well endowed, and unlike some of the other girls in their year she hadn't required any magical assistance. She knew how to use them as well, and dragged her fingers across her tits, letting them linger for a moment on her stiffening nipples. Even Professor Snape hadn't been entirely immune to that little manuver.

Harry wasn't Snape, however, and seemed strangely bored as he turned and flicked his wand in Malfoy's direction. Malfoy shrieked as his ear was slashed from his head. Blood began to pour down the side of his face, matting his long white hair to his cheek. Pansy couldn't stop herself from flinching, which didn't go unnoticed.

“I could have made that the fatal blow, you know,” Harry said with the same sort of conversational tone one might have used to remark on the weather. “If you truly want to save yourself you're going to have to put a bit more effort into than simply flashing your teats at me.”

Pansy's cheeks began to burn as Luna and Ginny started giggling behind her. The seductiveness was gone and replaced by pure defiance as she stepped in front of Harry, placing herself between him and Malfoy. “You won't kill me.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

Pansy growled angrily as she dropped to her knees and reached for his belt. Harry just smirked as she fumbled with the buckle before moving on to the fly of his slacks. That was an obstacle she was more familiar with, so it was only seconds before Pansy had them open and loose enough for her to tug them off his hips, taking his underwear with his pants in the same motion. Her eyes widened when his cock flopped out. He wasn't even the least bit erect! Doubt raced through her, but she knew she couldn't hesitate. Cupping his balls in one hand, Pansy opened her mouth and leaned forward, wrapped her lips around his cock, and began to suck.

Harry couldn't keep from gasping at Pansy's aggressive style of fellatio. The other girls were usually much gentler, almost hesitant, when they had his cock in their mouths. Pansy acted like it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted and she couldn't get enough. Harry had to stop himself from simply grabbing her by the hair and forcefully fucking her mouth. Instead he gritted his teeth, raised his wand, and bellowed, “ _Formico!”_

“Wha-? No, no! Get them off of me!” Draco begged as his body was sudddenly covered by thousands of tiny, glowing black ants. They covered him from head to toe, walking across his lips, crawling into his nose. Every inch of his skin itched under their feet...and then they began to bite. Any hope of coherency was lost as the Slytherin wailed.

The screams meant nothing to Pansy. Instead she smiled as she felt Harry's member swell against her tongue. She knew the Gryffindor boy wouldn't be able to resist a good suck, but what really surprised was just how turned on _she_ was getting. Her hand seemed to have slipped under her robes of its own accord, and her fingers were busy on her clit. His cock was soon good and hard, to the point where she could trace the individual veins with her tongue. He was larger than Draco, that was sure, both thicker and longer. Pansy was forced to relax her throat in order to get down the last inch, but she managed to press her lips together around the base of his cock. She then quickly tried to swallow, as if it were possible to gulp him down.

“Uh,” Harry grunted. He lost his concentration on his spell, and ants faded away. Draco kept screams last for several more seconds, as the young man was too lost in his agony to realize his tormentors had departed.

“Oh, Harry, looks she got the better of you there,” Hermione said with a pout as she moved up behind him. Her hands slid under his shirt as she reached around to toy with his nipples. “You're going to need to focus, love.”

Harry glared at Pansy as he struggled to regain his composure. He lifted his wand back towards Draco and barked, _“Occulus constrictus!”_

Draco began to scream anew as the bones around his eyes began to thicken. At first his skull simply started to push in on his eyes, but soon it began to cave in under its own weight. Splinters of bone cracked and split off, digging into pale grey irises. Blood began to trickle down the side of his nose like macabre tears, then began to gush as his eyes were pushed back into his skull before being ultimately crushed.

“Hmm, now that is more like it,” Hermione whispered as she brushed the nape of Harry's neck with soft kisses.  
Pansy heard the change of tenor in Draco's screams, and knew that Harry had done something truly awful. She felt her stomach flutter as a small tremor of fear crawled down her spine, but she knew the game wasn't up yet. She would make Harry Potter come even if it meant crawling on top of him and shoving his cock into her cunt. Still, she had a few more tricks to try before she took it that far. Instead she backed off with her mouth, replacing the tight grip of her lips with the tight grip of her fingers. She gasped theatrically – perhaps too theatrically – as she continued to pump his cock by hand and let a thick string of saliva mixed with precum hang between them until it landed on her breasts. She quickly glanced at Hermione and the other two girls. A smile crept across her lips as she confirmed that yes, she was much bustier than the other three. Pansy quickly forced the smile into a pout as she looked up to catch Harry's eye.

“Please, not yet! I want to feel your cum over my skin,” she pleaded as she rose a little higher on her knees. Before Harry knew what she was doing she had his cock between her tits, slick with mix that had poured across them just a moment ago. Pansy's fingers twisted her nipples as she bobbed up and down, sending a shock of pleasure racing through her body. She didn't try to stifle the gasp that followed, but leaned backwards a bit so that Harry could take up the rhythm on his own.

Harry moaned as he placed a hand on her shoulder to steady his thrusts. The combination of warm, soft, and slippery was like nothing he had ever felt before. Worse, the comingled look of fear and desire in Pansy's eyes was driving him nuts. He wanted nothing more than to just bend her over and fuck her till she screamed, but it wouldn't have bothered him in the least if he covered her face with his cum instead. He could feel the pressure building in his shaft as the need to come grew, and he pinched the tip of his tongue between his teeth to keep it at bay. He _refused_ to let her win so easily. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to focus on Draco, but he couldn't keep his wand from wavering as he once again pointed it at the hated boy. _“Ha- Hae- Haemorrhagia sca-”_

“Come for me,” Pansy moaned, deliberately slowly down, trying to maintain as much control of the situation as she could.”

“Yes, come for her, Harry,” Hermione panted, drawing her finger over his collarbone. “Cover her with your hot, sticky seed. Then she can be your permanent toy, and you can use her over and over and over...”

“Know. Your. Place,” Harry snarled he through gritted teeth. Raising his wand once more he screamed, _“Haemorrhagia scarabaeus!”_

Draco's body began to convulse as small, fast moving lumps began to move under his skin, accompanied by a muffled chittering, clicking noise. Blood shot out of his knee as the first beetle ripped its away to freedom, only for it to be quickly joined by another dozen each tearing their own exit through Draco's flesh. He wasn't even allowed the dignity of screaming as a steady stream of the insects began to force their way up his throat to escape via his mouth.

“Careful, Harry,” Hermione whispered as she smirked at the wracking spasms twisting through the Slytherin boy. “If you break him too soon you won't be allowed to keep your new pet. After all, a deal is a deal.”

Pansy tried not to frown, but instead sped up once again. She _knew_ Harry had been close and was sure she could drive him over the edge if she just had enough time. She risked a glance at Draco and blanched as she saw him cough up blood. She doubted he would last much longer.

Harry saw it too. He had no idea what sort of game Hermione was playing, and something told him that she didn't really know, either. He let out a frustrated snarl and and grabbed a handful of Pansy's hair, forcing her head down at the same time he bucked his hips forward. Pansy choked as Potter shoved his cock down her unprepared throat, to the point where her nose was pressed deep into his pubic hair. His entire body trembled as he shot his load, but he refused to let her go once he was spent.

“Remember this, Pansy, is you remember one thing,” he ordered. “You belong to Hermione now, just as she belongs to me. You will obey us in all things, or everything that I have done to that filth over there will be visited upon you tenfold. Do you understand?”

Pansy's head snapped back as he shoved her way from him, but she still managed to nod weakly. “Yes, I understand. I understand!”

“You understand...what?” Harry asked with a dangerous edge in his voice.

“I understand...my lord,” Pansy said quietly.

“Good.” Harry nodded to Hermione, who released her spell, while a snap of his fingers released the one holding up Draco. “Come, ladies. I think it is time we retired for the evening.”

 

* * *

 

Draco felt his body lurch as the levitation charm gave way, and though he couldn't see the ground below he knew he had quite a way to fall. He screamed and screamed and screamed all the long way down. The earth rose up to met him, and smashed every bone in his body to flinders.


	6. Taking the Tolipans

Lucius Malfoy stared at the torn piece of parchment in his hand, then at the covered bucket that had accompanied it, and wondered for the hundredth time just how or why the house elves had decided to leave it on the desk in his study. It had arrived with the morning post, but when he had checked the aerie that morning the only owls present had been his own and Draco's. He had red his son's letter over breakfast – the usual blatherings, a request for more money, and a report on the latest slanders against their name, really he was going to have to teach the boy to resolve his own problems – and he hadn't been expecting any packages. So who had sent the bloody thing, and why?

It was, barely, possible that it had been sent by an enemy and was either hexed or intended to serve as a disguised Portkey, but Lucius quickly dismissed those possibilities. While the Order had been much more...aggressive of late, they had also been alarmingly direct in their attacks. This was simply too bizarre to be one of their plots. The bucket was old, partially splintered and beaten gray by the weather, so he really had no reason to touch it other than curiosity. That would make transferring a hex rather difficult. The Manor was also warded against Apparition and Portkeys; only those with his permission could get in or out.

The accompanying note was even more useless. The parchment was old and yellow, and had clearly been torn from a larger page. The handwriting seemed feminine, but was otherwise unfamiliar. Its message was short, and seemingly meaningless.

“ _We couldn't wait for you to hear about this.”_

Scowling with annoyance at the whole mystery, Lucius finally waved his wand at the bucket to remove the lid. He bent over, careful not to get too close, but only ended up staring uncomprehendingly at the pulpy mass inside. When he finally recognized the torn, bloody ruin that was all that was left of his son's face, he screamed.

 

* * *

 

Hundreds of miles away and deep below the earth, a peaceful quiet had settled over the Chamber of Secrets. Pansy had entered into their routine with remarkable ease, though she had to be careful to check her more aggressive impulses around Ginny and Luna. She was still trying to to come to grips with how easily she had submitted to Potter and Granger, and her more malicious side was tempted to take her frustrations out on the two weaker girls. It was easy, though, to see how possessive Potter was of the pair, while Granger would clearly do anything to keep him happy. Since Pansy had every intent of keeping her wits about herself rather than ending up as another addle-brained sex toy, she made sure to keep her wand sheathed even when her temper spiked. Her dreams of late had often included Draco's final scream as he had plunged out of sight, which was just another reason for her to remain on her best behavior.

On the other hand, she was living in  _Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets!_ She had been more than a little shocked when she had seen the basilisk's skeleton laying there in the antechamber. It seemed impossible that a boy as young as Harry had been had managed to kill the thing, even if he had had the help of Dumbledore's pet phoenix, and with a sword of all things! Why, its ribs were taller than the support beams in her family's cottage, and the skull alone would have filled the entire living room! The corpse was far more impressive than the massive stone bust that the monster had once lived inside.

Beyond that bust, however... Pansy knew she had never been a terrific student, but then she had also never really been interested in what her teachers had to offer. The Hogwarts curriculum had been designed to make them all good little witches and wizards, polite little witches and wizards, and, even worse,  _obedient_ little witches and wizards. Pansy had never wanted to learn how to keep pixies out of her garden or the thirty household uses for qualde roots, she wanted to  _be_ someone, the sort of witch that other practitioners spoke of in awe; if she couldn't have awe, then fear would do as well. But even Snape had held her back, refusing to authorize her attempts to get into the Restricted Section of the library. He had insisted that she wasn't ready for such dangerous materials, but how could he have possibly known if he never let her try? The only one who had ever given her any sort of encouragement had been Mad-Eye Moody, so it had turned out to be a bit of a disappointment when it had been revealed as a Death Eater and wouldn't be coming back for a second year. 

The Chamber, on the other hand, was filled with rare books, and not all of them were dark magic, either! There were recipes for all sorts of potions, designs for eldritch artifacts, and rituals for summonings and bindings. Her primary interests lay in the tomes on combat and warfare, and with Harry's permission and Hermione's assistance she had cleared one of the side rooms to use as a training salle. Hovering crystals projected illusions of monsters and magi while attacking her with low yield stunning spells, so that she could practice her new incantations in a more practical setting. The only problem with the set up was that she had no control over the crystals. She had found the design on an ancient scroll that seemed to predate the school, and it hadn't exactly come with an instruction manual. All that had been included were the commands for 'on' and 'off', as well as a warning that the system would automatically shut down if left without an active target for more than five minutes. Not only did that make them useless as any sort of security device, but it also meant that she had no control over which lesson she would be fighting against at any given moment. The crystals had a staggering array of opponents to chose from, including standards such as goblins and centaurs to more exotic forms such as yokai and Polynesian sand demons, though it seemed to prefer human opponents as a standard selection. It had taken some digging, but the girls had eventually managed to identify the spear-and-shield wielding soldiers as Roman legionnaires from the sixth and seventh centuries. There were often spell casters mixed in with the muggle troops, so Pansy had to remain on her toes in order to avoid getting stabbed or blasted.

It also made Pansy wonder when and why they had stopped using muggles as shields. While she was definitely improving, nine times out of ten she still ended up getting stabbed to death.

Pansy let out a grunt as a spear made of light and air ended up buried in her stomach by one of the faceless troops. Hot pain radiated out from the strike, paralyzing her body even as another four strikes landed. She spun as she fell, so she landed face down and was forced to stare at the floor as she waited for the stunner to wear off. By the time she could move again, the illusions had already vanished.

“Would it help if you had someone to stand by your side?”

Pansy flipped herself over so that she was laying on her back, then sat up so that she could face Harry. The new Dark Lord was leaning against the door frame with his arms folded over his chest. He wasn't looking at her, not exactly. It was more like he was looking past her, to all the variations of Pansy that were yet to be, so that he could pick the one that would best serve his needs.

Pansy thought about the question for a moment, then shook her head. “If I had a partner the crystals would probably just spawn more opponents to make up for it. I don't think any of the muggle army scenarios are winnable. I don't think they are  _supposed_ to be. Whoever created this didn't want wizards fighting muggles...at least not without an army of muggles of their own.”

“Why is that, do you think?” Harry asked as he walked over to a nearby rack of towels and tossed one to her.

Pansy frowned as she considered the question, and used the time she took to wipe down her face and chest to think about the question. Had it been coming from a teacher she would have considered it a test, which would have implied there was a right and a wrong answer. But this was Harry. By now she knew better than to question his authority, but Potter also made that easy by not pretending to know everything. If he was asking her it wasn't to reaffirm his own position by pointing out how she was wrong. Instead her answer would be used to form his own opinion or further expand his own rapidly increasing knowledge base. Her answer didn't need to be right, just honest.

“Then I would say it is because whoever created this spell wanted to protect muggles.” Pansy shrugged. “I'm only a student, but I'm already taking them down in job lots before they overwhelm me. And that's without resorting to some of the more destructive spells I've been studying, spells I don't want to risk setting off inside a small room underground. Admittedly, modern muggles probably still don't fight with swords and spears, but... I would expect the average witch or wizard could decimate a muggle military before they get brought down. It would be more a matter of who is willing to lose more bodies, and there are a lot more of them than there are of us. We're clearly the superior fighters, but they can win through attrition if it comes down to it.”

“Exactly the answer I would expect from a Slytherin,” Harry said, nodding. “I see the problem differently, hence my original question. What if we had muggle supporters of our own? How much longer could you survive if it wasn't us versus them, but us and them against our enemies? Individually we may be powerful, but together we would be nearly unstoppable. Its something the Death Eaters don't understand. They fight alone, or in small pairs and threesomes, if they think they can trust one another. That's why they have to run off and hide like cowards. They don't dare strike a larger, more confidently protected target because the strong can't trust the weak not to flee, and the weak can't trust the strong to protect them. But no one else can see that, so everyone is too scared to get together and go after them, leaving the Death Eaters to torment the muggles, who everyone thinks are useless anyway, and to torture or brainwash any witch or wizard unlucky enough to get caught out alone.”

“Typical Gryffindor.” It said something about the change in their relationship that it was not longer heard as a thinly veiled insult, but merely as an acknowledgment of a different point of view. Then Pansy blanched as she caught the full implication of his words. “You want to use  _muggles_ to go after  _Death Eaters?!”_

“No,” Harry answered softly. “By the time we are done, we will be recruiting muggles to go after the  _Ministry._ ”

 

* * *

 

“So, what does Pansy think of your little scheme?” Hermione asked as she closed the door to their private chamber. She had ordered Ginny to keep Luna company. It had been six weeks since they had abducted the younger blonde, and Hermione had been keeping a close eye on her. Hermione, Ginny, and Pansy had all passed their periods without comment, but so far Luna had missed hers. The problem was... Luna was Luna. If  _she_ had noticed that had missed her cycle or even cared about, Hermione couldn't tell. Factoring in her slight build, her odd dietary habits, and the trauma she had experienced, it was entirely possible that Luna missing her period was an entirely natural course of events.

_'Still, a darker part of me hopes that's the case,'_ Hermione thought as she turned the lock. Harry's logic about not impregnating her (yet!) made sense, but at the same time Hermione refused to accept that anyone else might end up bearing the heir to the Potter name. Any child that Harry might father with his concubines could possibly pose a threat to her own children's claims. 

The exception, oddly, was Ginny. It might have been a side effect of their minds having merged for so long or just a lingering trace of affection, but Hermione couldn't muster any ill will towards the other girl, not in the same way she resented Luna or was wary of Pansy. In truth, Hermione hoped that Ginny would bear Harry many fine daughters so that she could partner them off with the sons she planned on carrying. She wasn't worried about the inbreeding. One of the previous Heirs had left behind a fascinating collection of ancient Egyptian artifacts and scrolls. Included in their number was the recipe for the potion the long-dead priests had used to stabilize the brother-sister pairings that had been common during those forgotten dynasties.

_'Maybe I should whip up a contraceptive for Luna as well, even if she is already carrying a brat,'_ Hermione thought as she waited for Harry to answer her original question.  _'If Harry does insist on a child, I can always find someone more suitable to serve as a mother. Someone more...stable.'_

“About as well as could be expected, considering we're planning on overthrowing the entire Ministry of Magic. I don't think it is something that Pansy had ever really considered before. As far as I know, her parents aren't Death Eaters, and I reckon even Draco was smart enough to not go around sharing the Dark Lord's plans as pillow talk.” Harry frowned when finally noticed the look on her face. “What's wrong?”

“ _Must_ you father a child on Luna?” Hermione whined. “I mean, why her? Why now?”

“I-” Harry shook his head. “No, that's not right. Its bigger than just myself, though I am at the heart of the problem. Did you know that I am the last of the Peverells?”

“The who?” Hermione vaguely recognized the name. She was fairly sure that it had come up a few times in a History of Magic, but for the life of her she couldn't remember where or when.

“One of Britain's older magical families,” Harry answered as he pulled the covers back and motioned for her to join him in bed. Hermione quickly shed her robe and slipped in next to him. Once she was tucked against his side, Harry continued. “Also one of the most  _powerful_ magical families in Britain. I've found several family trees while exploring down here. I suppose it couldn't be helped, but more than a few of the previous Heirs were obsessed with that Pureblood nonsense. A few of the smarter ones even tried to understand it, and there are extensive genealogies of just about every non-muggleborn wizard down there, including my own. It turns out my ancestors were rather quite accomplished.”

“Harry.” Hermione's eyes narrowed. “You're not going to tell me you are starting to believe in that nonsense?”

“No...and yes,” Harry finally admitted. “Oh, the stuff about Purebloods making the best wizards is total bunk. You're individually more powerful and talented than most of the kids we went to school with, and possibly even more capable than some of the teachers in their prime.”

Hermione's nose scrunched as she thought about that. “I think you may be more powerful than I am, and you pick up the complicated spells a lot faster.”

Harry just shook his head. “I absorbed a good chunk of Voldemort's powers when he failed to kill me and the curse backfired, and it is possible that I have been absorbing more of them over the years. Quirrel, the diary, our fight in the graveyard... Those were all fights between broken pieces of his talent, with my own natural will and power providing the deciding factor. Otherwise, it is very likely I wouldn't have survived those fights. I don't know what will happen when we finally kill him for good. Its possible that I will keep these powers, but it is equally possible that they'll go when he does. At that point, all hail the Muggleborn Queen!”

Hermione let out a squeal as his fingers began to dance across her ribs. She had never enjoyed it when Ron had tried to tickle her, but then he had always been far too rough, jabbing his fingers into her like he was trying to see how deep her skin was. Harry was much more gentle, running his hands over her body like a violinist who had just been offered a Stradivarius. He didn't let up until she reached between his legs and grabbed his cock, giving it half playful, half threatening squeeze.

_'I love watching his face flush like that,'_ she thought as she asked, “What does this have to do with you being the last Peverell?”

“Magic  _is_ in the blood,” Harry acknowledged. He shifted his hips to give her better access while simultaneously reaching for a puckered nipple. “The child of two strong practitioners has a greater chance of being powerful themselves. Its  _only_ a chance, however, and the kid can turn out to be just as average as everyone else. That is where those blood obsessed maniacs get everything wrong. They became so wrapped up in notions of blood purity that they seem to have bred themselves into a corner. They started to see a decline in their over all power just as soon as the “proper” houses started putting out rotten fruit. Only the Peverells didn't feel that way, and often married whomever they pleased, no mater what their origins. While the name itself has gone extinct, the overall result was a strengthening of the mixed bloodlines.

“Look at Molly Weasley, for example. While the Prewetts are members of the so-called Sacred Twenty-Eight,  _they_ never matched for status the way someone like the Malfoys did, so their bloodline is mixed with half-bloods and muggleborns, even if just somewhat distantly. That gives a witch like Molly a much deeper well to draw on – you've seen how many spells she can keep going at once! Compare her to a wizard like Lucius Malfoy, and I would side with Molly every time. The Malfoy line is only as strong as its weakest link, and, considering how narrow that particular family tree is, they have had plenty of time to acquire them over the years. There could be two, maybe even three of him in the fight, and all other things being equal, Molly would win.”

“That's the first reason,” Harry continued. “I want to see if those damaged bloodlines can be saved. Some, such as the Malfoys, I think we can just write off entirely. Others, such as the Lovegoods, might be salvageable. Of course, I would rather find out sooner than later. If we get her pregnant now, we'll know by the time we are thirty rather than by the time we are fifty. The second reason is a bit more personal. There are strong spells and rituals that require a partner of blood relation, such as the one Voldemort used to return himself to life. Having children of our own would mean we would have access to those same magics.”

“You want to have children so that you can use them as  _spare parts?!”_

“Of course not!” Harry answered hotly. “Let's leave cutting off hands and dropping them into boiling cauldrons to the bad guys, yeah? I'm talking magic more like this.” Harry tapped his scar. “Dumbledore and Voldemort both spoke of powers not written in any book, and Voldemort at least believes that he has taken some of the protection my mother gave me when he used my blood for his resurrection. At the very least, we should make sure our future generations are prepared and protected.”

Hermione's eyes relaxed, but she still glared at Harry suspiciously. “Is that the only reason?”

“Well...” Harry hesitated as he considered how to phrase his next answer. He was aware of Hermione's ambitions, and had every intent of helping them succeed. They were, after all, his ambitions as well. But if he was going to pull this off, then he was going to need something a little more formal than his current impromptu harem. “I've also been finding more and more information on the Castle. Slytherin was a meticulous record keeper as it turns out, and was possibly the primary architect. While he was aware of many of the other founders' side projects, those legacies are tied to their individual houses. We would need a member of each house to to unlock them. If we use Luna as the first member, then we would only need a Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff.”

“Harry,” Hermione said gently, “Are you forgetting that you are a Gryffindor? As are Ginny and I. Pansy is a Slytherin, so shouldn't you only need a Hufflepuff?”

Harry shook his head. “It doesn't work like that. A Duke – or Duchess in this case – needs to remain permanently in the Castle and on its grounds in order for all of the enchantments to work. Granted, the grounds include Hogsmeade, the Forbidden Forest, and quite a number of lesser properties that we will want to reclaim, so they're not going to be stuck inside stone walls for the rest of their lives. Right now a lot of the responsibilities are being split up between the teachers, prefects, and Head Boy and Girl, so the wards are only partially functional. At the same time, if we were to take on these mantels, it would mean giving up things like Grimmauld Place and visiting your parents over night. I'd rather have you, Ginny, and Pansy in more mobile positions alongside myself. So we need to find three more girls to bind to us as Duchesses.”

“Four,” Hermione interrupted with a grimace. She didn't like the thought of having to add an extra body to the list, but at the same time she didn't see any way around it. “Luna is...not stable enough for a position this important. I expect we're going to need to let the Duchesses have more independent authority. The Ravenclaw should be someone people will listen to and obey without thinking about it. Luna is too much of a joke for that. No one will see her as Duchess Ravenclaw, but rather as that silly little girl whose shoes were always being stolen because she was too busy chasing imaginary fairies.”

This time it was Harry's turn to grimace. “Agreed. Honestly, I just didn't have any better candidates in mind. For someone who has been famous their entire life, my social life has always been rather cramped. Did you have anyone specific in mind?”

Hermione shook her head. “Preferably it would be a girl who is ripe, since you'll want to breed them as well. That rules out anyone younger than a fifth year. There were a few girls in the DA who would make good choices. The question then becomes, how do we ensure their loyalty?”

“Obliviation and seduction, of course,” Harry replied. “Preferably they'll be open to our agenda to begin with, but that should make sure of things. We'll need some polyjuice potion to sneak around the castle, however. I'm sure the guards will have doubled since we killed Draco, assuming McGonagall has even managed to keep the school open. I'll have Kreacher join the cleaning staff and gather the necessary ingredients from Snape's stocks.”

“Do we want to stir up more trouble?” Hermione asked.

“Not until we have the Duchesses in place.” Harry smiled faintly. “I was planning on removing McGonagall soon, but I'm afraid that if any of the professors are targeted that the school won't last much longer. While that would make it easier to seize for our own purposes, that would also result in all of the students being sent home. I know we've learned not to just run into things, but each disappearance is only going to add to the pressures being brought to bear on the Head Mistress. I'd prefer if we could take them all at once, or as close to it as possible.”

“I'll talk to Pansy about it in the morning,” Hermione promised. She slid her leg over Harry's hips and lined his cock up with her slit. “For now, why don't we focus on something a little more immediate...”

 

* * *

 

The library had come a somber place, even for that usually quiet locale. The normally robust Gryffindor spirit had broken under the loss of so many of its more popular characters, and while normally the Slytherins would have been celebrating, they were instead terrified by the recent murder of their own most notorious scion. Even the Ravenclaws were hurting. While Luna had always been treated as eccentric at best, she had still been a lively distraction in that usually bookish house. So far only the Hufflepuffs had been spared, left to wonder if they were fortunate to have been overlooked, of it was only a matter of time before one of them was next.

Alicia Tolipan was one of those Hufflepuffs waiting for the next shoe to drop, so she made it a point not to go anywhere without her twin sister, Erica. Despite having been sorted into separate houses, the two seventh years made it a point of lining up their schedules as closely as possible. Of course, that had been before students had started dying and disappearing. Now Alicia was simply glad to have her more aggressive sister playing constant bodyguard. Erica's protective streak went all the way back to when she had been the first born, or, as she put it, “the one to come out to make sure the coast was clear.” It had been an annoying trait when they were younger, but now it was just reassuring. Alicia looked up from the paper she was writing on the alchemical properties of quartz to smile at her protector, then went back to trying to explain why it was necessary to use a counter-clockwise motion when stirring in anything finer than sand and a clockwise motion for anything larger.

Erica returned her sister's smile, but couldn't focus on her own work. She had been trying to memorize the differences between Persian and Arabian jinni, but after reading near identical entries on ephreets, efrits, ephrits, and efreets, she was becoming more and more convinced that they were all simply the same sort of creature that simply enjoyed coming up with petty reasons to pick a fight with witches. That wasn't exactly a promising thought for a girl whose life ambition had been to become the next Lara Croft. Becoming a  _magical_ Lara Croft had sounded even more amazing, but not if it involved getting killed by potentially omnipotent spirits who made up for getting trapped in tiny clay jars by getting pissy over how their names were spelled!

Her eyes turned to the window as she instead considered, for possibly the thousandth time that day, the best way to keep her and her sister safe. The sky outside had turned a dark, steel gray. Even though it was only the first week of November, the ground had already frozen and the lake was covered by a thin sheet of ice. Fat snowflakes were drifting earthward, as if nature itself was intent on trapping the students of Hogwarts inside with whatever had been killing them. Everyone knew the teachers were useless, and this time it was even worse than when the basilisk had been running loose. Back then the snake hadn't managed to actually kill anyone, so the teachers had managed to cover up their incompetence once everyone had been cured by the mandrakes. Too bad for them now that there wasn't a cure for crucifixion or three hundred foot drops. It had been students who had found Malfoy's body, make it impossible to keep the truth a secret, though a new rumor was going around that the teachers had also managed to somehow  _lose_ his corpse. There had been a half-hearted attempt at blaming the victim, with a few teachers muttering about idiots who couldn't keep from breaking curfew, but there was no real effort to support that line of thinking.

_'It bothers me more that all the corpses have been boys, while all the disappearances have been girls,'_ Erica thought glumly.  _'I know it means there is a slight chance they might still be alive, but for what purpose? Why kill Harry, Ron, and Malfoy but keep Lovegood? Ginny and Parkinson I can understand, but Lovegood wasn't_ that _attractive, I don't think. And Hermione was scary powerful. Even if someone did manage to get the drop on her, I don't see her being passive about it for long.'_

She looked back at her sister and made a mental vow to keep Alicia safe from whatever nightmare was stalking the castle. Naturally, that was when the world went black.

 

* * *

 

When Erica woke up some unknown time later, it felt like her mouth had been stuffed with cotton. That, and the general soreness of her body, was enough to tell her that she had been the victim of a stunning spell. The Death Eater who had been pretending to be Mad-Eye had insisted on them experiencing several hexes and curses. At the time he had claimed it would be so that they were better prepared to resist them in the future, but after his true nature had been revealed Erica had decided it was just a cheap way for him to torture the students. She hadn't developed any resistances then, and it didn't seem like she had developed any now.

She tried to move, but someone had lashed her wrists to her ankles crosswise so that she was forced to stay in a kneeling position. Another rope had been run around her neck and then secured to a large iron ring set in the floor in front of her, tight enough that it kept her head pulled down, though there was just enough slack that she could twist her head slightly without fear of being choked. Enough that she could tell she was no longer in the castle. The stone floor was too smooth, and lacked the usual carpeting that covered the interior of the castle, while the walls were solid rock instead of the gray bricks that had been used to build Hogwarts.

It would have been at that point that most people would have started asking the usual questions, starting with, “Where am I?” and usually followed by, “How did I get here?” “What time is it?” and “Is anyone there?” But Erica was a Gryffindor. The only question she asked was the most important one of all. “Alicia?”

“Erica?! Oh no, they got you, too!”

Erica breathed a sigh of relief at her sister's panicked squeal. It was better knowing that her sister was alive and well, even if she was scared out of her mind. Erica's imagination had just about to invent all sorts of terrible fates for her younger sister, but now it could rest easy. Better to be trapped together with a chance of escape then left to dwell in her darkest fears.

“Oh, good, you two are awake!” A book slapped closed behind Erica. The voice sounded familiar, but it took a moment for the older girl to place it.

“Ginny? Is that you? Where are we?” Well, it had to be asked eventually.

“We're in the Chamber of Secrets, of course!” Ginny answered cheerfully. Erica was confused by how chipper the redhead sounded. She had been one of the first to disappear, but she didn't  _sound_ like a captive... “Hold on, Mistress told me to fetch her when you woke up. Mistress? Yes, the first two candidates are awake.”

Erica started to wonder if maybe the other girl had gone insane, but then she heard a second voice reply. It was too low to hear properly, as if she were trying to eavesdrop on a telephone conversation in another room. Erica strained her ears as she tried to hear more, but the conversation was over almost as soon as it started. Still... Mistress? Candidates? What in Merlin's bloody name was going on?

Erica got her answer only a few minutes later. A slight draft told her that a door had been opened, and then she heard Hermione ask in a very confused voice, “Ginny? Why are they tied up like that?”

“Kreacher did it, Mistress,” Ginny replied. There was a slight tremor in her voice.  _'Why is Ginny afraid of Hermione?'_

“If we didn't need his help filching supplies, I would gladly kill that miserable little house elf,” Hermione growled. _”Deconstrictus.”_

Erica gasped as the ropes binding her immediately fell off. The ropes around her wrists and ankles simply shrank and evaporated, while the one around her neck exploded to ten times its size and dropped in a huge ring around her. She looked up to find Hermione kneeling in front of her. The other girl looked concerned. “Are you all right?”

“What the hell is going on?” Erica demanded as Alicia scooted over next to her. “Ginny said this is the Chamber of Secrets? Everyone thinks you two are dead or kidnapped! Have you been down here the entire time? What about Harry? Is he all right?”

“Lord Peverell is fine,” Hermione said, gently.

“Lord...Peverell?” Alicia and Erica shared a confused look.

Hermione nodded. “With Dumbledore out of the way, we've decided it is time to start the next era of magical history. The past six years have been telling. The Ministry is corrupt and inefficient. The Pureblood families are slowly poisoning themselves with their notions about blood purity, those who haven't outright sided with Voldemort. Muggleborns and half-bloods are forced to either deny what they are, or accept second class roles. Meanwhile, the Muggle world continues to expand and progress, forcing the magical world deeper into the shadows as it is left further and further behind.

“What Harry and I intend to do is clear out the old ways. First we crush the Death Eaters and overthrow the Ministry, then we'll break the purebloods by outing ourselves to the muggles and forming new alliances. We'll rejoin the studies of magic and science, so that they compliment each other once more. In order to do that, we first need to secure a place of power, and Hogwarts is going to be that place. There is a vast amount of potential here, far in excess of what any student might ever hope to know bout. This, Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, is just a starting point. We don't have access to the other legacies, not yet anyway, but we will. Slytherin had it all written down.

“To start, we need four members of each of the respective houses so that we can use them as surrogate Heirs. That is where you two come in. We want you, Erica, as the Duchess of Gryffindor, and you, Alicia, to serve as Duchess Hufflepuff. In exchange, you will be joined to House Peverell. You will be established as part of the ruling dynasty, with your descendents holding positions of power in the reborn wizarding society. Your word will be as good as law; only Harry and myself will be able to overrule you. Will you choose to join us?”

Erica wanted to ask if the other girl was insane, but she could hear the conviction in Hermione's voice. Nor had Ginny interrupted to add or argue anything her “Mistress” had said. It was impossible to know what might have been promised to the youngest Weasley, but Erica doubted it was the same wealth and power speech they were getting. On the other hand, it was a fairly open secret that Ginny and Harry had a thing for one another – Ginny just might have openly volunteered to join this madness!

On the other hand... A lot of what Hermione made sense. The wizarding world – as Erica knew it –  _was_ broken and obviously had been for some time. The Tolipans might not have encountered the same bigotry faced by the half-bloods and muggleborns in houses such as Slytherin or Ravenclaw, but they had still had butted heads with it a time or two, even among their friends. Natural born witches were just that superior minded about their heritage. They would unconsciously mock muggle achievements, even when those accomplishments had already surpassed what wizards were doing. Or, more accurately,  _especially_ when it surpassed the magical world's equivalents. Moving pictures had been exciting when she was a first year, but now she took them for granted and it occurred to Erica that she hadn't seen anything improve in regards to that. Good grief, wizarding photography still used flashbulbs and boxes mounted on tripods! Where were the personal cameras, the instant Polaroids? They had been told that they shouldn't bring muggle artifacts to school because magic made them do wonky things, but if wizards could get radios and phonographs to work, then why not walk-mans or TVs? Hell, even a telephone would have been nice, just so that they could call home every once in a while. Owls certainly had a certain charm in person, but they were bloody inconvenient when the rest of your family lived in the middle of a London walk-up. 

That alone almost made Erica say yes, but then she looked at her sister. True, if they accepted they would be made Duchesses and given a starring role in the new world order Hermione was promising, but at what cost? While knocking off the Death Eaters didn't bother her, over throwing the Ministry couldn't possibly be that simple or You-Know-Who would have done it already. People would resist, innocent people who were just trying to defend what they knew, what made them feel safe. People a lot like Alicia. How many more people would need to bury family members so that Harry and Hermione could build the world they were dreaming of? How much more blood would need to be shed?

It was a war between what her mind said was the smart choice and what her soul said was the right one. In the end it was the soul that won. The world Hermione described would have been a utopia, but it would have been a utopia built with the corpses of those who had opposed it and cemented with the tears of those they left behind. When she finally answered, Erica spoke quietly. “I'm sorry, Hermione. The answer is no.”

The twins started to rise, but before they could get back to their feet the ropes laying around them sprang to life and pinned them back to the ground. Alicia screamed as Erica looked up at Hermione with a look of horror in her eyes. “You said we could choose!”

“But I never said I would accept it if you made the  _wrong_ choice,” Hermione replied blandly. Her eyes flickered to her servant. “Ginny?”

_“Obliviate!”_

Erica's next protest was lost to time as the curse struck her in the back. Her bright green eyes faded and turned glassy as Ginny invaded her mind. Hermione had chosen her weapon well. Had she cast the curse, she would have been forced to turn the Tolipans into broken automatons, as she currently lacked the fierce sexual desire that had created Ginny's pet persona. That had been a fluke as much as anything else, and Hermione had decided that while Obliviation was definitely a spell to master, it was also one she would practice on less important individuals. It was a trickier spell in some ways than the Imperius Curse, though it was obvious the two were related. The Imperius Curse was clearly the stronger of the two; almost impossible to resist, it gave the caster perfect control and could not be detected until its victim began to carry out their orders. The Obliviation Curse, by contrast, was much more obvious in effect, even if it was equally incurable. Anyone who ran into Ginny now would immediately realized she had been bespelled, and was likely to react accordingly. Unlike the Imperius, however, it allowed for a person's entire personality to be rewritten according to the caster's desire. Memories were powerful things, the imprint of every experience that had shaped a person's decisions and personality. Removing, replacing, and altering those memories therefore had consequences for the subject, and the older and more important the memory the more severe the consequences. That meant a more demanding investment on the part of the caster, as each new alteration could bring about unforeseen changes.

Which was Ginny was the perfect choice for casting the spell. The idea was to create more devoted worshipers for Harry, though ones who would also still possess enough self awareness that they could function independently. Hermione would have had to carefully weigh every memory before deciding what to do with it, both Erica's and her own. To far in one direction and the older girl would be useless for their plans. Too far in the other, and she might accidentally create another rival.

Ginny, on the other hand, only needed to copy over her own organic memories. Embarrassed glances at Tony Brelling through the windows of the Hogwarts Express were replaced with a fond memory of sneaking shy glances at Harry from behind her mother on platform 9 ¾. Erica's first kiss with Howard Cacklebum remained the same, though now it carried with it the sad regret that it hadn't been with Harry instead. Every intimate moment she had shared with another boy now became about her new lord. Every fond memory was recast as a dream with his face in it, every regret now came with the impression that Harry could have done it better. Just thinking about him made her stomach knot up with happy tension. Even having to share him didn't bother her, just so long as she was allowed to have a piece when she could... Oh, and Hermione too. The sexual desire wasn't as strong, but the need to please was. Erica would do anything for her wise, kind Mistress, anything at all...

Hermione watched in satisfaction as both girls stopped resisting, their jaws slack as Ginny rewrote their minds. Curiously, it was Alicia who seemed to be more resistant to the brainwashing, and her eyes remained dull for several minutes after Erica's had been released from the curse's grip. Hermione would have loved to have known if it was the magic or the girl's chose role that the younger twin was resisting, but in the end it was a moot point. As long as she played the part she had been assigned, then everything was going exactly according to plan. There was only one thing left to do.

“Harry, you can come in now.”

Erica's eyes lit up at the mention of Harry's name, and she smiled when the door opened again to reveal her Lord and Master standing on the other side.

“Good morning, Lord Peverell!” Ginny, Erica, and Alicia all spoke at the same time, thrilled by the sight of the boy they were all in love with. Hermione shook her head at their chorus; it struck her as a little creepy how in sync the three girls seemed to be. Fortunately, they all seemed to have retained some form of personal identity. Hermione watched as Ginny stepped forward, Erica rose to her feet, and Alicia remained kneeling. Ginny and Erica exchanged looks, and for a moment Hermione thought the two girls were about to come to blows. Instead they simply each moved to take Harry by the hand, Ginny his left and Erica his right. Alicia looked up with a smile, but she still didn't move from her place on the floor.

_'Don't don't tell me we're going to need a new Duchess of Hufflepuff so soon,'_ Hermione moaned inwardly. She didn't know what losing her sister might do to Erica, but they also simply didn't have time to play games seeing if the younger twin would cooperate. Her fingers wrapped around her wand as she prepared to strike, but a small motion from Harry stayed her hand. He carefully withdrew his fingers from Ginny's grip and motioned for Alicia to rise. “What is wrong, Alicia? Don't you want to join us?”

“I'm- I'm afraid.” Her voice quavered, and she refused to meet Harry's gaze. “My lord, I do not know if I am ready. I do not know if I am worthy.”

“Oh, my dear, but you are,” Harry crooned. He reached out and caressed her cheek. “You are one of the greatest witches I have ever known. Your powers will help to shape a far greater world for all of us, and your wisdom will continue to guide it long after all else of history has been ground down to dust. I name you Helga Hufflepuff's one true Heir, here to do her will for all magic kind. Rise, rise and take your place among my court.”

Alicia's entire body was trembling as she pushed herself off the stone floor, only to for the shaking to stop as soon as Harry's hand touched hers. Her head tilted back as he leaned in for a kiss. Heat suffused her body as their lips touched and she couldn't help but moan when they finally broke apart. She didn't put up any resistance as Ginny began to remove her clothes, but instead stood respectfully so that her new master could examine her body. Her school robes ended up in a puddle around her feet, topped by her cream colored panties. Deft fingers removed her bra, then, lacking a better place to put it, dropped it behind Ginny.

Harry nodded in approval of his newest concubine. Alicia's breasts scaled more to the large side, with a slight tilt upwards that left her nipples pointing directly at anyone looking down at them. Her belly was naturally flat, though it would lack the tone that her sister's would once Erica had also stripped. Her sex was marked by a small thatch of stubble; she had shaved it during the summer and fall, but now that winter was returning she had decided to let it grow back in.

Alicia was much more nervous as she watched Harry disrobe. He took his time, not wanting to scare her by seeming to hasty or aggressive. At the same time, it didn't take him nearly as long for he hadn't started with as much. Harry hadn't been wearing anything under his robes, so once he had removed them and handed them to Hermione there was nothing left to hide his bare body. He was already hard, his foreskin partially pulled back to reveal the swollen purple crown of his cock.

Both Tolipan sisters gasped at the sight of his nakedness. They had had some idea of what to expect from the images Ginny had implanted in their minds, but reality proved to be a far more potent experience. Alicia began to unconsciously reach for him, only to freeze when she realized how brazen she was being. Harry refused to allow her to retreat and seized her wrist. A nod of permission dispelled the terror in her eyes as he placed her hand on his shaft, showing her the proper way to grip and stroke.

His other arm went around Erica's waist and pulled her against him. She, in turn, responded by grabbing both his and her sister's asses and giving them a playful squeeze. It wasn't until Harry grabbed both girls by the back of the head, however, and guided them into a shared kiss that the  _menage a trois_ was officially joined. It was impossible to tell who was in control at that moment, as teeth, tongues, and lips tangled in a playful series of nips and tugs.

That was when Hermione chose to abandon the room, pushing Ginny out the door in front of her before the lusty redhead could give in to temptation and tried to turn the threesome into a foursome. There was a power rising in the room that Hermione couldn't understand, but it had the  _feel_ of a ritual, and one that might be a bad idea to interrupt.  _'Hopefully there is something in Slytherin's archives,'_ she thought as she locked the door behind her. Even that barrier wasn't enough to completely isolate them from the effect. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up and her steps felt lighter, as if she couldn't quite touch the ground with her feet. It wasn't quite floating – it lacked the stomach-in-her-throat feeling the hover charm left her with – more as if gravity was just...off. The entire experience simply begged for her to do more research.

Back in the room, standing had also become difficult. Harry had ended up lying down on his back, with Erica straddling his chest and Alicia kneeling between his legs. Alicia was absolutely mesmerized by his penis, watching as each slow pump of her hand brought a bit more precum out of his slit. She didn't have quite as much experience as her much more forward sister, and most of the memories Ginny had left her with had easily been slotted into the fantasy category. It wasn't the first time she had held a cock before, but it  _was_ the first time she had seen one in any sort of light or been able to touch it for more than thirty seconds before the boy made a mess of both their robes. It amazed her how it could feel so hard and soft at the same time, like iron wrapped in velvet. Not only that but it was warm, and she could see dark veins stretching under his pale skin with each tug. A small bubble of precum sat perched at the very tip, like a delicately balanced pearl.

“Go ahead and kiss it,” Erica suggested breathlessly. Harry had started to massage her back for lack of something better to do, and it was making her increasingly horny. She didn't think it was possible to be so turned on, but each touch by Harry sent small shocks of pleasure racing through her system. It all seemed so silly now, but she had been under so much stress worrying about what might happen to her and Alicia, she had never realized how tense she had been getting. The back rub was doing wonders for loosening her tight muscles, but she still couldn't wait to have his cock deep inside her.

“Kiss it?” Alicia asked.

“Mhmm.” Erica nodded. “Trust me, boys love it when you do that.”

Alicia didn't hesitate. Erica had never steered her wrong before. She leaned in closer and pressed her lips delicately against the of his penis, almost as if she was afraid it might burn her. The precum smeared against her lips, giving the faintest trace of taste. It was slightly salty, slightly sweet, like nothing else she had tried before. 

“More, please,” Harry moaned.

“Go ahead,” Erica urged. She had never thought about it before, but the sight of her younger sister giving her first blowjob was incredibly arousing.

Alicia was quick to obey. She tugged down on his shaft, exposing more of the crown and opened her mouth a little wider. Her tongue flicked out and tickled his glans, earning another moan from Harry.

“Put your lips around it, all the way,” Erica suggested. “Go on, just like you were sucking on a lolly.”

Alicia did, taking him the rest of the way into her mouth. His member felt heavy against her tongue, and she could have sworn that she felt it shifting in time with his heartbeat. She had only gotten as far as the head of his cock, but the flavor was definitely stronger now, more exciting. She gagged slightly when Harry's hips gave an involuntary jerk, his body seeking the warm tightness of her mouth, but the hand holding his shaft kept him from getting too far. She built up to it, hand and head moving as one, faster and faster, until she had managed to swallow nearly four inches of his length. She kept going until her body demanded oxygen, but as she popped off him with gasp, Erica was already there and ready to take over. More experienced than her younger sister, Erica managed to wriggle her way all the way down to the base of his cock, so that her lips were pressed against his sack.

It also meant that she had to lean forward, and it wasn't an opportunity that Harry planned on passing up. He pulled back on her thighs, so that she was lying flat on top of him with her sex exposed. His tongue darted forward, sliding up between her lips in one long sweep. Erica yelped at the unexpected change in position, and Alicia couldn't help but laugh at her older sister's surprise. Mirth quickly turned to envy, however, as Erica's face contorted with pleasure. Harry's tongue was all over her, wiping back and forth across her clit before darting into her tunnel and then back again. She wanted to writhe, to squirm, to do anything to relieve the aching pressure building in her loins, but his arms curled around her legs and held her pinned in place.

Alicia didn't want to let her sister have all the fun. “Move,” she snarled as she reached for Harry's cock. Erica was too distracted to offer any resistance. Alicia plunged downwards, sucking him between her lips with much less hesitation than she had before. To her it had become a race, to see if she could get Harry off before he finished her sister. It wasn't fair that Erica got to have all the fun, in Alicia's mind if she could just prove how talented she was to her Master, then he would be sure to spend more time concentrating on her.

“Oh, gods,” Harry panted as Alicia pushed him past the breaking point. His mouth clamped down on the first thing available as the first climactic spasm ripped through him, which just happened to be Erica's clit. The older girl shrieked as Harry sucked hard on her most sensitive point, and her mind whited out with orgasm.

Alicia felt a momentary surge of panic when she felt Harry's cock begin to pulse against her tongue. She had never had a boy cum in her mouth before, but she didn't want Harry to know that! She instinctively pulled back so that just the head of his cock was still between her lips, which meant there was plenty of room for the first shot that spurted forward. Another half dozen followed, the last coming out as a mere dribble, but it was still far more than Alicia had expected. Still, she managed to avoid spilling a drop, but simply let it fill her cheeks before she swallowed. The taste was much stronger, the salty and sweet blending together in something not truly describable, and she savored every last bit of it.

Erica had collapsed into a happy little puddle, so it wasn't difficult for Harry to ease her off to the side and pull Alicia into her place. The younger Tolipan was more than happy to oblige, and quickly crawled into position over Harry's still-hard dick. Before she could get it in, however, Harry rolled them over so that  _he_ was on top, so that  _he_ was in control.

Alicia let out a strangled gasp as he plunged into her. She wasn't a virgin, but so far it had been Erica who had been receiving most of Harry's attention. Not only that, but Harry was easily the largest boy that she had ever been with. He hadn't held anything back, either, but instead buried himself inside of her with one fluid motion. Alicia's world fell apart in a blur of sensation, of being utterly, completely full, of being split apart, of her body joined to his in the most perfect way possible. He gave her only a few seconds to adjust before he began to move, taking her with long smooth strokes. Her legs wrapped around his back, pulling him deeper, urging him to go faster.

Harry smiled as he looked down at Alicia. Her long blonde hair had fallen around her head in the shape of a halo, and her eyes were closed as she gave into her body's feverish desires. Her lips were clenched together, but that wasn't enough to stifle the little mewling noise she made every time he bottomed out inside of her. He leaned in closer and pushed her arms up over her head, pulling her breasts up against his chest with each thrust. She gasped the first time her nipples brushed against his skin, so he used the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. With that his body owned hers, and every movement, every sound, every pleasure came at his command. He felt her cunt tighten as her first orgasm rolled over her. He pushed in as far as he could go, then held it there as she was lost in ecstasy. He didn't pull out until she had gone completely still, save for the shallow rise and fall of her stomach as she struggled to breathe properly.

Erica watched enviously as her sister slipped into blissful catatonia, Harry, however, had no intention of leaving her envious for long. His legs were only slightly shaky as he got back to his feet and quietly padded over to where she lay. Erica tried to look him in the eye, but failed as she found her gaze drawn to his cock. His foreskin was entirely withdrawn now, leaving bare the purple helmet slick and shiny with her sister's essence. She started to reach for it, but Harry shook his head.

“No. Turn around. On your knees,” Harry ordered. He wasn't quite sure how, he just seemed to know that each of the Tolipans needed to be taken in a certain way. Alicia had needed to know that he would be in control, but that he would be willing to share with her. Erica, on the other hand, needed to be dominated, to be shown that Harry's will came before her own. She hesitated for a moment, but then he stood a little straighter and moved to take a step back, as if withdrawing a special treat. That was enough to earn her compliance. She turned around and dropped to her hands and knees, but as she turned her head to confirm that that was how Harry wanted her he grabbed her by the back of the neck and forced here all the way down, so that her face and tits were pressed against the cool, smooth stone floor. But where defiance could be overcome pride could not. Erica's spine remained ramrod straight, lifting her ass high, just as Harry intended. The hand squeezing her neck remained in place as he knelt down behind her and his other hand carefully searched out her cunt. He did not enter her as forcefully as he had her sister, but slipped in patiently, drawing out their first joining even as she desperately whispered, “Please, please,  _please.”_

Erica groaned impatiently as Harry paused for the third time. She could feel him in her, could feel him stretching her inner walls, but her body was demanding more. She lacked that sense of completeness that came from having a boy all the way inside of her, and Harry was refusing to grant it to her. If she tried to roll her hips, he would stop. If she tried to wriggle her ass, he would stop. He only advanced when he felt like it, and he was definitely taking his own good time about it. Her body was wracked by shocks of molten lust as he slid deeper inch by sweet inch, driving her made with the need for more. She began trying to grind her rub her breasts against the floor, looking for any sign of relief and finding none.

Harry swallowed a sigh as finally pushed the last inch into her. The idea was to take his time with it, not to encourage her or build any confidence in her own talents, but he was finding it difficult to focus on the task at hand. Erica was tight, tighter than her sister, and Harry wanted nothing more than to pound her silly and fill her cunny with his sperm. Instead he gritted his teeth and began to pull out, trying to think of anything other than the wonderful feeling of her pussy dragging along his shaft. It didn't help that Erica was much more vocal, as well. Where Alicia had made polite little whimpering noises, Erica moaned and screamed shamelessly, detailing her lust in explicit detail.

“Please Harry, fuck me, just fuck me. I need your cock, please, deeper, deeper, please Harry, harder...” It seemed to come out as one constant stream, punctuated only by her need to breathe. Harry found it all incredibly arousing, which only made it more difficult for him to remain in control.

“Damn,” he grunted as finally gave in. He drew back one final time, then began to slam into her cunny with a piston-like rhythm.

“Oh Ha-r-r-r-y,” Erica gasped. Her voice caught each time he filled her, echoed by the sound of their bodies slapping together. Thought dissolved as her world narrowed and concentrated somewhere on a point deep inside her, a place of never ending sexual energy that just radiated utter, perfect happiness. Her entire body was tingled warmly as she plummeted into her climax. Then Harry was coming with her, his body pressed tight to hers as he pumped shot after shot deep inside of her. Her cunny tightened up around him, not wanting to lose a single, precious drop of his seed.

Harry dropped on to his ass as he pulled out. His cock was still erect, if a bit sore from over use, so he allowed the Tolipans to wash him clean with their mouths. They giggled as they did it, as Erica would occasionally whisper naughty things to her sister, always just low enough that Harry couldn't quite hear what they were plotting. Erica seemed to be utterly insatiable, and tried to see if she could get Harry up for a third round.

“Not quite yet,” Harry said, laughing exhaustedly at their enthusiasm. He noticed that while Alicia hadn't been quite as brazen, she seemed equally disappointed. “Give me an hour or two, and then we'll see about another romp.”

“Promise?” Alicia asked hopefully.

“Try me and see,” Harry said with a wink. Both girls giggled, then Erica leaned over and suggested something to Alicia that left the younger girl wide eyes and shocked. Harry just shook his head as he got back to his feet, then offered the girls a hand up as well. That led to more kissing and fondling, but still not quite enough for Harry to have another go of it.

Alicia and Erica watched as he redressed, then considered their own piles of clothes. It seemed silly to put it all back on when Harry hadn't even bothered to belt his robes closed, so they didn't. Erica slid her robe back over her shoulders but also left it open, exposing her breasts and sex to anyone who cared to look, then added a pair of socks to insulate her feet from the stone floor. Alicia was slightly more modest as she  _did_ belt her robe closed, tugging the sash nice and tight to make sure that it stayed in place. On the other hand, it also had the effect of pressing her breasts up and together. Not only did it make them seem a bit larger, but the combination of utter cleavage and barest hint of aureola was far more arousing for Harry than her sister's blatant nakedness. Also unlike Erica, Alicia chose to go barefoot through the chamber.

The two girls waited for Harry to exit first, then followed in his wake. They kept up a constant stream of chatter as he led them to the common room, pointing out the Chamber's various attractions to them as they went. Erica nodded appreciatively at Pansy's training salle and Alicia couldn't help but gawk at just how large the archives were in real life, while the full sized bath gave them both all sorts of interesting ideas involving their new Lord and Master.

The other four girls had already gathered in the common room. Hermione and Pansy were hunched over three scrolls they had set out on the main table, while Ginny was curled up in a chair reading a book. Luna was sitting by herself in a corner, casting a levitation charm over and over on dirty fork. Harry frowned as he saw that and came to a decision.

Pansy was the first to look up. “Added two more to your harem, eh?”

“Indeed. I give you the Duchess Gryffindor and the Duchess Hufflepuff!” Harry announced. He motioned for the twins to step forward and stand at his side. “With them at our side, our inevitable control of Hogwarts draws ever nearer. Once we have the Duchess Ravenclaw and Duchess Slytherin on our side, the castle while acknowledge us as its true masters, and will grant us access to all of its secrets. From there, we can begin the process of reclaiming its full grounds, which will provide us with the resources and materials we will need to eliminate the Death Eaters once and for all.”

Pansy shot Hermione a look, but the other girl just shook her head, indicating that it wasn't quite the time for questions. Instead, Hermione turned to Harry and asked, “So then everything we as well as we expected?”

“It did, Mistress,” Erica said, tilting her head respectively. “My sister and I are your faithful servants, in this and all things. I understand now that my earlier choice was made in haste, and thus in error. We, I, did not understand just how broken the world had become, and thought only of those who would stand against us in the coming days. I did not think about all those it would mean leaving trapped in bondage to the old ways. If they are ever to have any hope of being judged for  _who_ they are rather than  _what_ they are, then of course there must first be those willing to end the traditions of hate and fear.”

“And I have come to a decision of my own as well,” Harry announced as he drew his wand. “I had hoped to...temper our impact on the coming world, by instilling new life in to the old bloodlines. I did not want them to be left behind, for us to lose all the tradition and history that had grown up with those families. I realize, now, that I would just be nursing a dying tree, and thus denying life to the seedling that might one day grow to replace it. We must not look to rescuing the old dynasties, but to establishing new ones, dynasties founded with clear minds and pure morals. With that said-”

Harry whipped his wand in Luna's direction as he hollered,  _“Sectum sempra!”_

The the magic cut clean and true, cleaving through her throat with ease. The broken-minded girl made a small little choking sound as a sheet of bright red blood came spilling down her neck. The spell had sliced down through to her spine, so it did not take long for her to expire. She sagged down in her chair, then toppled over completely to lie in a steadily expanding scarlet pool.

There was no regret in Harry's voice when he next spoke. “The old ways shall perish, and make way for the such has it always been, such is as it always will be. Kreacher! Pick up this mess and get rid of it.”

All the girls stopped and stared as Harry walked off.

Ginny, Alicia, and Erica were the first to leave. They simply shrugged, utterly indifferent to the death. Their Lord and Master had decided the girl needed to die, and that was enough for them. Ginny simply closed up her book and went to find a place to read that didn't stink of blood and death, while Erica and Alicia went off to find something to eat. Harry had sated one hunger, so now it was time to go and sate another.

Pansy took a little longer to make up her mind.  _'Probably wouldn't have taken it quite that far,'_ she decided after a moment. Granted, she hadn't necessarily wanted the girl dead, but the coo-coo blonde had never been anything since dead weight, good for nothing other than popping out babies. Luna's sudden demise didn't bother her in the slightest. Then she, too, shrugged and went to find something to eat and pick the brains of Harry's newest brides. She'd done the same thing to Ginny, curious about just how far the brainwashing went and how much of the normal personality remained, and having two new samples would hopefully give her that much more insight. 

Only Hermione stayed to watch as the crotchety hold house elf vanished the body, then came back with a mop for the blood. She waited patiently until he had gotten every last drop up.  _'Wonder why he does it that way, if he can get rid of the rest of the body so easily?'_ Hermione shivered at the thought. When she had mentioned her concerns to Harry she hadn't intended for him to kill Luna!  _'On the other hand, what else were we supposed to do with her? She wasn't fit to breed, she'd be useless as a soldier, and no one in their right minds would listen to anything she has to say. Kreacher already provides all the menial labor we need. I suppose we could have used her for a lab rat...but no, even Luna deserved better than that. We could have kept her prisoner, but that would have meant detailing someone to look after her, or just letting her wander around the Chamber and blundering into everything else we might be doing.'_

Unable to make up her mind, she rolled up the scrolls and went off to make a cup of tea. As she reached the doorway she took one last look back at where the younger girl's corpse had been.  _'I suppose the real question is: Did Harry think about this, too, or did he just decide to kill her?'_

 


	7. Consequences

Minerva McGonagall sat in the Head Master’s office and stared at a small, silver top spinning in the center of the desk. She supposed it would have done to think of it as her desk, but she couldn’t. The room had been, and always would be, Dumbledore’s. The house elves had already cleared out his belongings, but she hadn’t had the heart to replace any of the clutter with things of her own. The shelves were bare, the floor naked of its rugs, and the only decorations remaining on the wall were the portraits of the previous Headmasters. Only Dumbledore wasn’t present, as his portrait remained unfinished. Not that it mattered, now. There was no longer any point to completing it.

The top had been a gift from her father, a small token of good luck they had found in a knickknack store shortly after McGonagall had gotten her acceptance letter to Hogwarts. The store’s owner had promised that the top would continue to spin for as long as she lived. McGonagall had started it spinning on her first night at Hogwarts, and it had been spinning ever since. She had always found a sort of pleasure in watching it go, a reminder that no matter how bad things ever got, there would always be a few constant things in life, predictable things, reliable things. But now the one thing she had relied on her entire life was being ripped away from her.

Hogwarts was closing.

She could have fought against it if it had just been Potter, Granger, and the Weasleys. She had loved them all so much, even when they were being unnecessarily troublesome, but there was no denying that they were all marked for death from an early age. To defy the Dark Lord and his minions was a dangerous task that had claimed the lives of dozens of fine men and women who had spent years honing their talents and who had been careful to work as much in the shadows as possible. To openly thwart him year after year was to invite the sort of wrath that even Dumbledore struggled to turn aside at times. She could have argued that, would have argued that. It was no secret that the Dark Lord craved Hogwarts the way a dying man craved a final sip of water. His followers would have let her have her way, even as they worked to remove her from office. But the important thing was that Hogwarts would have survived.

Then the Malfoy boy had turned up dead, and the Lovegood child shortly after that. Five other girls had disappeared as well, all from different Houses. The most recent two were Isobel MacDougall had been a Ravenclaw sixth-year, who McGonagall vaguely remembered as a pale skinned girl with fiery red hair, and Glynis Mexborough, a rather vain Slytherin. They, as well as the Tolipan twins and Pansy Parkinson, still remained missing. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny had already been declared dead, though their bodies had yet to be recovered.

‘ _And since Luna disappeared around the same time Ronald and Malfoy were discovered, it is only a matter of time until we get their bodies back as well.’_

As the numbers mounted, so did pressure from the Ministry of Magic. The school governors had already fallen into a panic over what to do, split half between keeping the school open and half wanting it closed. Angry letters flooded the Daily Prophet, until every single columnist was demanding the school be shut down, some even going so far as to demanded McGonagall be brought before the Wizengamot on charges of murder and the Dark Arts.

McGonagall began to weep at the thought. It was all just too much for her to deal with. It had all been so easy when Dumbledore had been in charge. All she needed to do was trust him, obey him, and everything seemed to turn out all right in the end. There was pain and loss, but there was also triumph and the eventual satisfaction of seeing justice done. Now all she could do was sit and wait for another name to be added to the list of dead she was responsible for. She had not slept the last few nights, for her dreams brought with them the silent, pleading faces of children slowly being torn apart by a shadowy figure that taunted and laughed at her, mocking her inability to rescue the children as it slowly devoured them.

“Those are the dreams you deserve.”

McGonagall sat upright as the bitter voice broke the silence of the room. She could only stare in shock for several minutes at the spectral figure that stood on the other side of the desk. When she finally found her words they came out as a harsh croak. “Potter?”

“In the flesh, as it were,” Harry said, motioning to his semi-transparent form. “Or I would be, if I were still alive.”

“How? Who?” McGonagall demanded.

Harry only shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way, Professor. We’re not allowed to tell. The dead are not allowed to interfere in the affairs of the living.”

“How long?” McGonagall quietly asked.

“Days? Weeks?” Harry shrugged. “Time…doesn’t quite seem the same anymore. I just…woke up. My body was lying there on the floor. A bit of a sight, that. I could really have used a haircut.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” McGonagall cried. She buried her head in her hands as the tears began to flow. “I never meant for this to happen.”

“Didn’t you, though?” Harry’s voice was soft, but there was an edge to his words. “All I was to you was a tool, Dumbledore’s weapon to be forged against Voldemort. A boy expected to solve the problems of a whole wide world that he went through half his life never knowing existed.”

“No, that’s not true, not true at all!” McGonagall shook her head violently.

“Of course it is true!” Harry yelled. “I’ve seen Dumbledore’s memories of that first night. I know you questioned leaving me with the Dursleys, but that wasn’t enough to stop him, was it? No, you had to be a good little soldier and follow the orders you didn’t like. You left a child to be hated and feared for reasons he could never understand. Every bruise, every cut, every burn that they inflicted on me is your fault. So that I could be ‘safe’. Safe from what? From my uncle’s belt whenever the toast was a little burnt? Safe from my cousin’s friends as they pelted me with sticks and rocks? Oh, I know! Safe to slave away for my aunt, paying penance for a crime I never committed!”

“But we had to be careful!” McGonagall protested.

“Careful of what? That I might think being an orphan was a good thing?” Harry sneered, his face twisted with anger. “My parents were dead, so you left me with the one group of people who were guaranteed to never love me! Muggles, ones who feared and hated magic! Ah, but that was what Dumbledore wanted. He needed me to feel alone in the world, so that he could swoop in, the hero of the hour! Then he could play at being the mysterious father figure, manipulating me from afar while confidant that my need for a father would bind me to him.”

“No, Dumbledore would never do that!” McGonagall said. What she thought, however, was, _‘But of course he would. It was always too much trouble to ask people for help, to be honest with them. He was always manipulating people, even you._ Especially _you.’_

She shook the thought away. “Harry, how can you say these things? These are horrible lies. Dumbledore loved you, he wanted you to be happy!”

“Happy? _Happy?_ Happy would have been having swimming in the lake with my friends, not wondering if one of my only two friends was dead from battling our way through _your_ demonic chess set! Happy would have been getting the chance to actually live with my godfather, rather than being condemned to year after year of the Dursleys. Happy would have been sneaking butterbeers into the stands to cheer for Cedric rather than dragging his body home so that others could blame me for his death. Happy would have been being able to have a girlfriend without having made it a death sentence for her, too!”

His last words cut right through McGonagall. _‘That’s it, then. Ginny is dead as well.’_

“You ask me how I can say these things, Professor?” Harry took a step towards the desk and reached out for the spinning top. His fingers closed around it, but they could both see it still there, turning, turning, turning. Quiet settled over the room before Harry let go. He began to fade from view as he took a step back, murmuring, “Death has a way of making things seem so clear.”

McGonagall sat there, staring at the space where the ghost of her student had once been. She wanted to call out to him, to beg him to come back, to apologize, to do anything that might ease the tightness around her heart. Her hands clenched tight around one another as his words echoed through her mind. For the first time it occurred to her just how appalling the sin she had committed in aiding Dumbledore. The Death Eater’s had killed children, yes, robbing them of their futures – but she had actively conspired against the living, ensuring a boy experienced nothing but pain and misery instead of enjoying the simpler pleasures of childhood. She and Dumbledore had not only betrayed Harry, but his parents as well. What would James and Lily say, if they could see what had been done to their child? How could they possibly forgive the torture she condoned?

McGonagall could feel the eyes of the previous Head Masters and Head Mistresses staring down at her from the walls. She did not need to look up to know they were frowning in disapproval, their silence as damning as any judgment they might have announced. They had heard her shame laid bare, knew that she had failed not just as a teacher, but as a human being as well.

_Tink._

McGonagall looked up at the noise of her top bouncing off a silver goblet that had not been there a moment before. Its sides were etched with the crests of each house, and would have held no more than a mouthful in its small bowl. She reached out with a trembling hand and pulled it close, only to discover her own reflection staring back at her from the surface of a glassy black liquid. She recognized it instantly. Her fingers tightened around the goblet’s stem, and she raised it to her lips. She drank deep, but one swallow was all it took to drain the goblet. The liquid tasted remarkably pleasant, like sunshine and spring flowers.

“Do it, then,” she whispered as she set the goblet back down. “Judge me, Hogwarts.”

McGonagall smiled, settled her hands in her lap, and closed her eyes. Silence once again returned to the Head Master’s office. One by one the various portraits bowed their heads and turned their backs on the woman seated at the grand desk that dominated the center of the room. Nothing needed to be said, for it had already been decided.

The little silver top began to wobble before tipping over, rolling in a small circle before coming to a stop.

“ _Accio goblet.”_

The silver cup flew off the desk and towards the far corner of the officer, where it disappeared in a brief shimmer of light. A careful observer might have noticed the faint rasp of a cloak dragging across stone or heard the quiet patter of a pair of feet tip toeing across the stone floor in the moment before a hidden door slid open, leading to a passage that had not been used for centuries, one carefully bespelled not to appear on any maps. The door vanished from sight a moment later, melting back into the wall so as to leave no trace of its existence.

It was only once the door had resealed that Harry Potter allowed himself to laugh.

 

*

 

Lucius Malfoy struggled to stifle his anger as he listened to the laughter echoing through the grand dining room of the abandoned mansion that Voldemort had claimed as his current base of operations. Malfoy didn’t care who the Goddards were or where their bodies had been hidden – assuming they hadn’t just ended up as another of Nagini’s snacks, that was – but then he found there was very little he cared about any more. His only son, his child and heir, was dead. He had always feared for Draco’s life, knowing that his position at Voldemort’s side would make his family a target, but that had been a risk he had been willing to take to bolster their failing fortunes. Not from the pesky Order of the Phoenix, whose outdated code of honor would never have allowed them to harm a child, but from his own so-called allies.

While the vast majority of the Death Eaters feared him almost as much as they feared the Dark Lord, there were a handful such as Bellatrix and Fenrir whom he had always made a point to keep a close eye on. They were the madmen and murders, the ones who truly took pleasure in the torture and pain that followed in Voldemort’s wake. Oh, Malfoy had no sympathy for the muggleborns and mudbloods – it was important to remind them the value of a pure bloodline, after all – but their suffering had always been more about business than pleasure for him. True, there was a certain satisfaction to be had from the misery of a defeated opponent, but casual bloodplay was wasteful in his opinion. The lessers could even be useful from time to time, as long as they minded their place and performed obediently.

But even a woman as batshit insane as Bellatrix wouldn’t have thought to have sent his only son back to him in a cracked wooden bucket.

Well, at least not if she wasn’t going to be around to see it. Then it would have been absolutely her style, but only because she actively enjoyed the misery of others. It wasn’t any good if they were suffering where she couldn’t see it. That was too much like baking a cake for your birthday and then watching as someone else got to eat it. It was only fun if you got a piece as well. No, the only person in the room inventive enough to come up with such a macabre presentation of Draco’s corpse was sitting at the head of the table, watching with great disinterest as his minions frolicked.

“Is there something amiss, Lucius?” Voldemort asked, turning ever so slightly to look at the target of his question. Lucius felt a small shiver of fear run down as his spine, as he always did when the Dark Lord gave him his attention. It was uncanny how merely thinking about him could draw his focus. The man, if he could still be called that, spoke in quiet, gentle tones that made him seem all that more unnerving.

“No, my lord,” Lucius answered. “Just thinking.”

And yet, for all that it made sense, Lucius had already dismissed the idea of Voldemort being responsible for Draco’s fate. While it was almost exactly the sort of plot that Voldemort would have imagined for an enemy, it was hardly the sort of thing he would have done to Lucius. Not because Lucius held any particular value to the Dark Lord, no matter what lies Malfoy might have convinced himself of, but because such a roundabout torture would have robbed the intended lesson of whatever meaning it might have held. The Dark Lord did not punish mistakes as a means of restitution, but to ensure that the survivors did not repeat the error. Draco’s death would have been far more public had it been Voldemort’s doing.

The only conclusion Lucius could reach was that there must be another Dark Wizard out there, one who not only had the ability to bypass all of Hogwarts’ many wards, but who was just as inventive and sadistic as the Dark Lord. The implications of that were…disturbing.

“Thinking about your son there, eh?”

Lucius’s eyes narrowed as he turned to glare at Fenrir. A bit of a silence fell over the table, and the two witches seated next to the werewolf quickly got up amid muttered comments about needing to find a toilet. Fenrir, however, was either unable or unwilling to properly read Lucius’s response.

“What a pretty little morsel he was,” Fenrir blithely continued. “Wouldn’t have minded taking a bite of him meself. Shame I can’t do that anymore, but now all I need is a spoon, right?”

Even Bellatrix looked a bit shocked by the bluntness of his comment. It wasn’t just cruel or rude, it was an open declaration of war made in front of the Dark Lord himself. A few quiet snickers went around the table, all of which Lucius carefully noted as he drew his wand. He did not raise it above the table, not until it was time. “Be careful what you say, Greyback. It would not be difficult to mistake your babbling for the sounds of a mad dog in need of putting down.”

“You haven’t the guts!”

And there it was. Fenrir had crossed the line, and had already started pushing back his chair to leap across the table when Lucius’s wand snapped into view. _“Avada kedavra!”_

There was a flash of green light, and the werewolf’s chair splintered as his corpse was heaved backwards by the blast of the spell. A dozen more wands appeared in their owners’ hands as hexes and counter curses began to fly…

 

*

 

_‘It ought to be raining,’_ Bill Weasley thought as he stared up at a clear blue sky. He stood at the back of his family, ignoring the droning voice of the Chanter speaking his brother’s funeral rites. Ron’s body lay only a few feet away, covered by a pale white shroud emblazoned with the Gryffindor crest. The public viewing had been short; his body had been in no condition to be seen, and while many expressed their sympathies, there were far fewer who had been willing to attend his brother’s death. The Weasley clan had gathered in their many numbers, but his father’s coworkers? His mother’s correspondents? Not one was to be seen or heard. They were all terrified by what had happened to the youngest Weasleys, worried that any show of support might draw the ire of Voldemort.

Worse was the weather. By all rights the sky should have filled with dark grey clouds which would pour rain as if to echo the tears of the mourners below. Instead the sun was out, not a cloud was to be seen, and it had even become unusually warm for the season, tricking a few birds into cautiously singing as they debated whether or not spring had come a few seasons early. It was if the world had decide that Ron’s passing was to be celebrated rather than mourned.

Fingers tightened around Bill’s hand. He turned away from the blue of the sky to the blue eyes of his fiancée. The ring on Fleur’s left hand had been there for less than a month when his brother had been murdered and his sister vanished, and Bill had been terrified that she, too, would abandon his family. But she hadn’t. Instead she had stayed by his side through the long nights and terrible days, not even fighting back whenever Molly lashed out in a fit of grief-fueled rage. That night had been the worst for his mother, and it had been that night that Bill had admitted his fears to Fleur. She had surprised him, then, by laughing.

_“Do you think me a coward, William?” (Fleur was the only one who ever used his proper name. He had asked her about it once, when they had first started dating. She had laughed then, too._ _‘But of course I will always call you William! Bills are horrible things that nobody wants, but everybody wishes they had a little more Will.’)_

_“I- No, of course not!” Bill’s mind was a mess. He was unused to fear, as it was an inconvenient emotion for a curse breaker. Hesitant, yes, cautious, yes. Those were often good instincts to listen to. But never fear. So why was it that this young woman could terrify him so easily? He didn’t want to see her go. He didn’t want to see her hurt. Either way, he would still be left with fear._

_“Of course not,” Fleur repeated, but gently, lovingly. She reached up and gently stroked the side of his face, then moved her hand so that he was looking at her engagement band. Gold and silver wires wrapped around each other in an endless cycle. “You never bought me this, did you? I’ve always known you found it on one of your little adventures. A small little trinket that our bosses would never miss, no?”_

_“I-“ Bill stammered in embarrassment. It wasn’t that he couldn’t have afforded a better ring, but when he had seen it sitting on that altar, surrounded by the imagery of Qetesh, he had known that it belonged with Fleur. And no, the goblins who ran Gringotts had never mentioned it or asked about it on his return; the only thing they had cared about was the golden casks that had been buried a few chambers farther in._

_“Shhh.” Fleur pressed her finger against his lips to silence him. “How long do you think it was down there for? A thousand years? Three? Imagine all that this ring has seen and survived, and know this. I swear that whatever may come, however our fates may be delivered to us, that I will always love you and shall forever be by your side. Just as this ring has endured, so shall we.”_

The roll of the drums brought him back to the present. The six remaining Weasley men all stood up and moved to their designated spots around the litter that held Ron’s body. Arthur stood at the front left corner, closest to his son’s heart, with Percy taking the front right. Bill and Charlie were in back, while the twins held the middle. Their positions had been entirely Arthur’s decision; he had wanted the twins to carry the least weight, so that their last memories of Ron wouldn’t be that of a burden. Fred and George had taken Ron’s death nearly as badly as Molly had. Neither had cracked a joke or pulled a prank in the weeks since Ron’s murder, but had instead holed up in their room.

The Chanter bellowed, _“Eftariseet!”_ At his cue, the six men knelt down and lifted the litter to their shoulders. A horn blasted a single drawn out note, signaling the beginning of the pyre march. Slowly, one by one or in pairs, the extended Weasley clan fell into step behind the pallbearers.

The pyre had been built at the top of a small hill not too far from the burrow. At a normal pace it would have taken no more than five minutes to cover the distance. The funeral train took twice as long, slowly circling the hill, until those directly behind the pallbearers had joined with those last in line. Only once the circle was complete did the six begin to ascend. They continued to move slowly, but steadily. The brown grass beneath their feet was slick with melted snow, and it would not have done to trip or fall. Not there, not then.

The bier above the pyre was narrow enough that the six Weasleys could walk to either side of it without much adjustment of their charge. At a nod from Arthur they spun towards their opposite number, lifted Ron from their shoulders, and lowered him to his final resting spot. Arthur placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder, just as he had so many times while his son had still been alive, and squeezed. He turned to face the crowed, but his mind froze as he tried to recall the words to the eulogy he had prepared the night before. Instead, all he managed to croak was a hoarse, “Ron…” Then his voice broke and he collapsed to his knees. He began to sob as the tears he had held back for so long could no longer be denied.

No memory he might have described would ever allow him to see the sheepish little grin Ron would make whenever he got caught at something he was sure he had gotten away with. No amount of praise would allow him to hear the indignant protest that always followed his youngest son getting tripped up by his older brothers’ pranks. There would be no more hugs, no more clapping him on the back, no more moments of courage to praise. Ronald Weasley was dead, and no amount of empty words would ever change that. His hands began to ache as they pressed into the frozen earth, but Arthur didn’t care. He was beyond caring.

The reaction of his sons was mixed. Percy froze, unsure of how to respond. He had never thought that his father might be so vulnerable. Even during his most stubborn moments of defiance he had never seen his parents as less than towering figures of authority. He thought his estrangement of them had been nothing more than a disagreement between equally competent adults. They had made their choices, just as he had made his own. Guilt flooded through him as he watched the man he had looked up to and respected for so long fall apart. For the first time he saw his parents as more than just his first instructors, but as real people who actually _cared._

Fred and George froze as well, but for an entirely different reason. They were torn not by guilt, but by hatred. Their father had always been an inspiration to them. A bit of a loon, sure, but an endlessly creative loon. His cheerful accidents and willingness to embrace concepts that anyone else would rightfully deride as completely insane had provided them with some of their finest material. They had seen him angry, truly wrathful, a time or two, but even that would pass quickly into laughter. Now their father was a broken man, and all they could think of was vengeance.

Charlie was the only one to act, and Bill was sure it was more from instinct than anything else. The second oldest son knelt down next to his father and took him by the shoulders, whispering soothing nothings as he guided the older man back to his feet. And yet there was a look on Charlie’s face, weathered lines which told Bill that their father wasn’t the only one close to completely falling apart. He watched silently as Charlie escorted Arthur to Molly and a waiting throng of aunts and uncles.

Bill turned his back on them as they reached the bottom of the hill. “Goodbye, brother. Rest well.”

He drew his wand from inside his robes and pointed it at the body that lay in front of him.

_“INCENDIO!”_

 


	8. Ten Little Death Eaters Part 1

 Lucius felt...oddly calm as he sat at the right hand of the Dark Lord, directly across from Bellatrix. The fight two nights before had thinned some of the older blood from the ranks of the Death Eaters, but Lucius found it difficult to consider it a bad thing. Greyback was dead, and with him the Carrows and Walden MacNair. They had always been some of the least stable of Voldemort's followers, and Lucius was glad to see them gone. The remaining Death Eaters were more... Well, civilized wasn't the right term, not exactly. He preferred the word 'formal' in its place. More sane, certainly. While most of the survivors craved power, they understood that they were pieces in a larger game. Certainly not pawns, of course, but not nearly as important as the King or Queen. They would serve as the noble pieces. But while a Knight or Rook could swing the direction of a game, they were, ultimately, still just as expendable.

The one exception was sitting across the table from him, her chin perched on steepled fingers as she studied the man across from her. Lucius kept his expression bland as he stared back at Bellatrix. He was, honestly, surprised that she had survived the fight. He had expected her to join in carelessly, but instead she had sat back and watched with all the amusement of a dedicated Quidditch fan whose team had just made it to the World Cup. Since then the two of them had reached a sort of almost truce. Bellatrix had discovered that Malfoy truly did have the killing edge she had long suspected he had lost, while Malfoy had come to a new appreciation for her cunning and instincts. The two would hardly become friends, as there was always the matter of currying favor with Voldemort, but for the moment there were two Queens on the board, a state of affairs that Lucius was more than willing to maintain.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Voldemort hissed as their plates vanished from the table. “I am pleased to see so many of you have decided to join us for dinner this evening. Wonderful news. There are some new faces here tonight, are there not? Please, step forward, step forward!”

Lucius held Bellatrix's gaze just a moment longer, then turned to the far end of the table where chairs were scraping against the floor as the people sitting in them made to stand up. Speaking of pawns. Voldemort's decision to recruit new Death Eaters had surprised Lucius, but after thinking about it he had come to see the logic in it. With Dumbledore no longer in the picture, the Potter brat having vanished, and McGonagall's suicide, there was almost no resistance left in England. True, the Weasleys had disappeared shortly after their son's funeral, along with a few other more prominent members of the Order. But there was no longer a single leader to rally them, no center of power to lead. A distressed housewife was no threat to anyone, no matter what her crackpot husband had done to that...blender thing. Many of the smarter witches and wizards had seen which way the wind was blowing, and dozens had already made quiet appeals to Lucius to see if he might be able to ease their way into a silver mask. He knew others had been approached the same way, and a few braver souls had even contacted Voldemort directly. Those who had done so had already been inducted for their courage, while those who had approached lesser lieutenants were required to perform a sort of audition.

Voldemort quietly rose from his own seat, arms spread wide in false welcome to the cluster of nervousness waiting across the room. “My brothers and sisters, I welcome you into our little family. A new era awaits us, one in which a witch or wizard will have to struggle for the respect that should automatically be due to him or her. For too long mudbloods and half-breeds have pretended to be our equals, their outrageous audacity fueled by impertinent fools who found it in their best interest to foster such delusions of grandeur. Now those fools have been struck down and their works crumble to ashes, for nothing created from such falsehood can stand the true test of time. Still,we must be cautious as we reach out to seize our destiny. There are those who would resist us, and spread falsehood about the nobility of our cause.

“Thus we come to the truth of the evening. You are gathered here today in order to earn your rightful place among our hallowed ranks. But how? Why? What shall you due to guarantee your place in history?”

One of the women closest to Malfoy stepped closer to the table, separating her from the rest of the group. Malfoy leaned into get a better look at her. She was young, only a few years older than Draco would have been. Her shoulder length blonde hair had been pulled back into a simple braid, and her face was sort of attractive in its plainness. Her eyes, however, were a deep emerald color that would have been a perfect match for a Slytherin banner.

“Simple, my Lord,” the girl-woman answered. Lucius mentally subtracted a year from his estimate of her age, while adding quite heavily to her bravery column. He strongly doubted she had finished her seventh year, though it was just possible she might have started it. Was her being at their dinner a sign of her power, or Voldemort's desperation? He toyed with the idea as the young woman continued, “The Ministry has closed Hogwarts. This means there is no Master or Mistress to lay claim of authority over it. This means that, as it is written in _Hogwarts, A History,_ the old wards will have reactivated. The castle itself will determine who its true lord will be, and will not submit quietly. It is no secret that you desire this position, my Lord. I would volunteer myself and those willing to follow me as a means of investigating those wards.”

“So that you may claim the castle for yourself?” Bellatrix's laugh was in no way pleasant. “Do you think the Dark Lord so foolish, girl?”

“I would make no such claim, my Lady,” the girl replied, bowing her head in Bellatrix's direction. “Would not the Dark Lord then strike me dead and take the title for himself anyway? A pawn's place is to be sacrificed, but a _clever_ pawn may place itself to survive until the next game. I would make no illusion about my place in this hallowed circle.”

“What is your name, girl?” Lucius asked.

“Sarah Roberts, sir.”

“I'm not familiar with that name,” Lucius admitted.

“I was in Ravenclaw, sir.” Sarah smiled prettily. “I know Slytherin is the more traditional source of your recruits, but I decided that it would be better to get in on it now, rather than wait to be lined up like the rest of the sheep when the flock gets sold.”

“And who are your parents, Sarah?” Lucius pressed. “Why are they not here?”

“Dead, sir.” Sarah's smile faltered for just a moment with remembered pain. “When I was little sir. Mum was a witch from Scotland, and Da a wizard from the States. They'd met during a World Cup. Lived in the States after they got married, until my Mum came back to take care of her father. They got to doing some cursebreaking for Gringotts in Ireland, when a banshee triggered a curse they were trying to take apart. Backlash killed them before they knew what happened.”

“Gringott's would have a record of this, of course.”

“Of course, sir. It was how I found out. I got taken in as a ward of Hogwarts, and when we went to make a withdrawal it turned out the goblin they'd been working for was the one to take us to the vault. Fucking munter got a promotion out of it, and couldn't wait to tell me about all the good my parents had done for _him._ ”

Lucius nodded, then sat back in his chair. The fact that she was a Ravenclaw was a bit odd, but could be easily verified once they had Hogwarts under their control. As for her blood, that could be checked through the bank easily enough. Employee records were supposed to be confidential, but a few gold coins in the right claws would turn them up timely enough. He looked to Voldemort.

“I believe Ms. Roberts's idea has some merit to it, my Lord. I suggest we let her take her expedition in.”

“Do you, Lucius?” Voldemort's head twisted just a little too far to the side as he turned to look at Bellatrix. “And what do you have to say about the little bird's plan?” Bellatrix just shrugged and went to picking at her fingernails. “Well then, I suppose we have a reached a consensus. Your trial is approved, Ms. Roberts. And...good luck?”

 

*

 

Cold rain pelted the castle grounds as ten would-be Death Eaters stared at the towering doors of the main entrance. Thunder and lightning clashed in the distance, neither willing to let the other have the final word, and the surface of the Great Lake smashed against its shores with an endless march of crashing waves.

 

“Do we knock?” one of the men asked. Thomas Rowan was an older man, with thinning brown hair that he spent each morning desperately spreading across his balding head. Sarah would have been more than happy to have not included him in their quest, but hadn't been left with much choice. While she was nominally in charge of the attempt to break into the castle, it had been Lucius who had picked who she would take in with her.

“No, we do not _knock,_ ” Sarah sneered as she pushed at the heavy timbers. “We come to claim what is rightfully ours as the witches and wizards of Great Britain, not to ask permission of dead stone and lingering spirits!”

The words sounded braver than she felt, but Sarah's mind was occupied by other matters. ' _Rowan is nothing special. Why would Malfoy choose to send him along? What does he_ really _want to achieve with this mission?'_

Despite her little speech at the dinner, Sarah didn't actually consider herself expendable. She fully intended to survive Voldemort's little test, and would have had no problem sacrificing the rest of her group in pursuit of that. The problem was, she was fairly sure the rest of the group felt almost the exact same way about her. She was easily the youngest witch there; the rest of the group were middle aged or older. Yet she had been the one to speak up, so she had been the one placed in charge. She could feel them glancing at her, plotting, waiting for the right time to plant their daggers in her back. Her only chance would be to strike first; fortunately, the Castle would provide the perfect cover story for any rivals she might eliminate.

_'Or is that what Malfoy really wants? For us to pick each other off, one by one, until only the strongest remains?'_

She shrugged off her concerns as the doors ponderously swung open. The main hall was darker than she remembered, but then there was no longer any Filch or house elves to make sure the candles and lamps stayed lit. Filch had been retired off to some farm way out in the middle of nowhere, and the house elves had all been put up to auction, or at least that was she had heard. She had tried to find one to use as a guide, but no one had been able to provide her with an answer for exactly where they had all gone. The best anyone knew, they'd been sold off to some of the wealthier families and that was that.

Sarah raised her wand and muttered, _“Lumos.”_ The tip of her wand immediately began glowing a brilliant white, but the light died off after only half a dozen yards, not even enough to make it to the staircase she _knew_ was supposed to be in front of them. Nine other voices echoed her spell, but even with their combined powers it was barely enough to illuminate the Hogwarts crest that decorated the stonework under their feet.

“So what now?” a shrewish voice asked. Lorraine Graves was not old enough to be Sarah's grandmother, but was an overweight blob that only managed to get around through repeated castings of strengthening and lightening charms. She could, however, trace her bloodline through seven different generations of witches and wizards and would happily curse anyone who thought to question some of the more spectacular claims about her lineage. The ambulatory shit factory was the last person Sarah would have expected Voldemort to accept as a Death Eater, but then she'd been another one of Malfoy's choices as well.

“We need to find the Headmaster's office,” Sarah replied calmly. “That's where most of the artifacts and wards are controlled from. Without anyone in residence, it should be standing open.”

“All right, so where is it?” Lorraine's eyes gleamed as she leaned in closer than Sarah ever could have wanted. The older woman's breath stank of rotten tobacco, and it took all of Sarah's willpower not to vomit in her face.

“I don't know!” Sarah blurted out. The others all immediately started talking at once, some demanding information, others criticizing her lack of knowledge. She let them go for a good minute, then whistled sharply. “Don't you all act the fool! We've all been students here, we all know how the castle behaves! The Headmaster's chambers won't have been tied to one specific place, they'll be wherever McGonagall had them last. Knowing her, that was probably near the Gryffindor tower. Does anyone know where that was?” There was some grumbling between the others, but in the end none of them knew where the Gryffindors had made their home. Not surprising, as Sarah was confident that she was the only one who _hadn't_ been a Slytherin while attending the school. “All right then. We have no choice but to split up. Use a whisper charm if you think you've found it if you've run into trouble.”

“You want us to split up?” Rowan demanded incredulously. “Do you realize how dangerous that is? What if something tries to kill us?”

“You have a wand, yes?” Sarah snapped back. “Then act like a wizard and use it! And if it still manages to kill you, then you probably weren't a very _good_ wizard in the first place!”

“I-”

Whatever Rowan might have claimed was drowned out by a loud _whir_ as something raced through the dark hall. It came and went in a matter of moments, vanishing just as quickly as it had come. The ten spellcasters had barely started to form a defensive circle before it was gone.

“Is everyone all right?” Sarah whispered.

“I'm fine,” Rowan whispered.

“Yes.”

“I'm okay.”

“Fine.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“What _was_ that?”

“I think I'm fine”

Sarah silently counted the answers and frowned when she realized she was one short. “Lorraine?”

“Does anyone smell that?” The answering voice wasn't Lorraine's, and Sarah quickly shushed the speaker. “Lorraine?”

Not receiving any answer, Sarah turned around to visually check on the older woman.

Lorraine lay in a pool of her own blood, the center of her chest completely gone. Just...gone. Greyish white shards of her ribs stabbed out from the slowly collapsing pile of gore that used to be her internal organs. Whatever the noise had been had punched right through her, taking her heart and the upper part of her lungs. It had also ripped open her bowels, filling the air with the stink of shit and half-digested food to mix with the coppery stench of congealing blood.

Hogwarts had claimed its first victim.

 

*

 

“Well, it looks like we know that spell still works!” Harry laughed. He sat on a massive wooden throne that the Room of Requirement had been holding on to, with his legs partially spread, giving Hermione just enough access to his cock while simultaneously supporting her weight as she rocked back and forth. His left hand was cupping her breast, his fingers gently rolling her nipple back and forth between them. Standing in front of them was a full-length mirror that was apparently bespelled to allow the Master of the Castle to watch anything going on inside of it.

“Mmmm,” Hermione moaned. Her focus wasn't on the mirror, but on trying to get his cock to hit just the right place inside of her. She'd had it a moment ago, then lost it.

“The blonde who seems to be in charge looks sort of familiar,” Harry mused. “Did she go to school with us?”

“Mmmm?” Hermione repeated. Her spine started to tingle she got closer to getting him properly lined up again.

“I wonder what she looks like naked?”

“Mmmm?” Why was Harry still talking. The Death Eaters were going to get massacred. Her hand closed over his and forced him to squeeze harder.

“I bet I could find out with the right spells...”

“MMMM?!” Hermione grabbed his other hand and forced it between her legs, shoving his fingers up against her clit.

“Oh fine!” Harry laughed a little more softly. He pressed down hard on the sensitive little button, stirring it in short circles. He pushed up with his hips at the same time, catching her from both directions at once. He stole one last glance at the mirror, then turned his full attention on his partner in crime. The Castle would handle the rest for them.


End file.
